Hereafter
by Evanescence2189
Summary: Even with a war still waging, the former Kings and Queens return to Finchley once again—a bustling city changed by the effects of warfare. And with scandalous roommates, new romances, and daunting circumstances, each may find what holds the prospects of a promising future. Peter/OC
1. June, 1942

**Summary: Even with a war still waging, the former Kings and Queens return to Finchley once again—a bustling city changed by the effects of warfare, holding the prospects of a promising future. Set after _Voyage of the Dawn Treader_, and during _The Last Battle; _Peter/OC**

**WARNING: There are spoilers for Voyage of the Dawn Treader and The Last Battle.**

* * *

><p><em>~Hereafter~<em>

Chapter One – June, 1942

"Peter, hurry! They'll be here any minute!" Alexa hurried quickly about the room, helping Peter collect anything else of his belongings. He really should have been done packing _yesterday_, but it couldn't really be helped. Studying for the university entrance exams with Professor Kirke had been challenging for the past couple of months for both Peter and Alexa, and took much of their time.

And when two letters had come in: one from his brother and one from his parents, both writing that Edmund and Lucy would be there the Tuesday of that next week, Alexa and Peter immediately began packing. However, it was now exactly a week to the day those letters had been received, Tuesday. He had forgotten to finish packing all of his belongings.

"I know, I know. Will you stop badgering me?" Peter asked in annoyance as he folded another shirt to add in his suitcase.

"We still haven't finished cleaning and we leave tonight. Honestly, you're such a man," Alexa said as she handed him more of his books. She continued to mumble under her breath, "Procrastination…never works…" Peter rolled his eyes.

"At least I don't nag you when you leave all your maps and pens and things about the study. Do I complain? No…" he murmured, more to himself than anything.

"Did you say something?" Alexa asked, looking up from her task of making the bed.

"Not at all."

"Hmm. Right…I can't wait until Lucy tells us of their adventures. I mean, their letter explained much, but she tells stories so animatedly…"

"It will be even better in person," Peter finished with a smile. His brother and sister had spent the much of the beginning summer with their cousin, Eustace, at the request of their aunt and uncle. Meanwhile, Susan had traveled with their parents to America (their father, John Pevensie, had been honorably discharged from the service because of a severe break in his dominant arm the year previous to this year), and Peter and Alexa had been left with Professor Kirke to study for university entrance exams.

At first, Peter did not envy his younger siblings. He had known Eustace Scrubb to be a vile boy—arrogant and selfish. He had never enjoyed his cousin's visits. But he was…surprised to say the least, by their letter.

"Someday, I hope to meet Eustace in person," said Alexa. Peter nodded in agreement.

"One day, you will."

An hour later they had finished Peter's packing in record time and finished cleaning each of their rooms. Alexa contented herself with napping on the outdoor chair on the veranda. It reclined wonderfully, for which she was grateful as she dozed. Peter set a blanket over and kissed her cheek fondly, to which she sighed and snuggled deeper in the blanket.

Peter then meandered through the corridors of the large, country home. He took in the now familiar walls, each intricate artifact and painting, every statue, and suit of armor he had once walked by. He decided he would miss this place. Not for the repaired window near the extensive armory, not for that spare room on the second floor, or even the bedroom he and his brother had lived in for a brief amount of time.

He would remember the summer days he and his family had spent in the outdoors, soaking up the sun's rays as they enjoyed the vast back yard; the stormy days that kept them inside, curled up with good books; and the late nights spent in the Professor's study, peering at classics for his chosen vocation: English Literature.

Peter's feet stopped in front of oak wood doors. He knocked, and waited.

"_Come in_."

Peter obliged and closed the doors behind him.

"Good morning, Professor."

The older man casually glanced outside the small window on the far wall of the room.

"Yes, I do suppose it is. Not a cloud in the sky," he mumbled before looking down at the book laid open on his desk.

"Yes, sir," Peter agreed. The Professor gave Peter a cursory glance.

"…What is on your mind?" Peter scratched the back of his head as he gave a small smile.

"I don't know. I…I'm going to miss this, I think."

"Understandable."

"I suppose." Professor Kirke regarded the younger man once again, this time with a knowing look.

"You can sit down. It's more comfortable, I'm sure you know," he said, peering back down at his book. Peter sat in the nearby couch.

"Professor…whatever happened to that young girl…that accompanied you to Narnia?" Peter asked tentatively. It was something he had been curious about. The Professor had not gone into detail when he had told the five of his own adventure into Narnia—when he was a young boy. There was so much about the man that was still a mystery to Peter.

Professor Kirke paused in his reading, and looked at Peter with a calculating gaze.

"…Polly Plumer. She became a good friend of mine in the years following our return…why do you ask?"

"Curiosity. From your story, she seemed quite an intelligible and kind lady…what happened to her?"

"Nothing. She has been living comfortably in her parents' home for many years now."

"Do you still speak?"

"She sends letters from time to time. I respond in turn."

"Does…she ever visit?" It was then, after Peter's hesitant question, that the Professor became slightly impatient.

"I've never thought you to be such an inquisitive young man," he remarked wryly.

"If I may say, sir, I only wonder why you have been living solitarily all this time. It must have been…interesting letting five strange children into your home. For any inconvenience we may have brought, I apologize," Peter replied. Professor Kirke paused for a moment, taking the time to refill his pipe with the canister of tobacco that sat upon his desk.

"...Quite all right," he spoke at last. "There was no such imposition." Peter fixed his gaze onto the Professor, and felt the small smile that found its way onto his face. He stood from his seat and crossed the room, stopping in front of the oak wood writing desk. Professor Kirke glanced up at Peter, and then to the hand offered in front of him. He took it, and shook the hand firmly.

"Goodbye, Professor. Thank you...for everything." With these final words, Peter did part, closing oak wood doors behind him. The graying man watched them close through round, silver-rimmed spectacles. Just a bare hint of a smile curved his lips. With this he surprised himself.

* * *

><p>Edmund and Lucy would arrive later that evening, only two hours before the five's departure from the Kirke home. Of course each of them said their goodbye's to the Professor, and the country abode they had come to love in the duration of their stay. Mrs. Macready brought them back to the station via horse and carriage, and even waited with them until their train came. Just as promised, Lucy and Edmund retold the story of their adventure with Eustace, returning to Narnia for the last time (this was mostly dictated by Lucy, but Edmund did add specific tidbits that Lucy was not present for).<p>

"…Can you picture it? _Our cousin_, a dragon? It was both magnificent and slightly comical at the time, because he couldn't even fly in a straight line at first," Edmund reflected with a short laugh.

"Well, not _that_ comical. He was flying straight into the mast, flustering everyone on the ship. But he came out of it a better person," said Lucy.

"You should see him, Pete. An entirely different Eustace," added Edmund.

"Yes, we'll have to visit him again soon," said Peter. But then the conversation changed to more serious topics, now that the near future had been brought into question.

"How have your studies been going?" Lucy asked both Peter and Alexa.

"They went well. We will take our entrance exams in Finchley…and then we will most likely have to wait a few weeks," Alexa replied.

"Hopefully, by July we will be packing our bags again to move into the dorms, while you two and Susan will be going back to school," Peter said. All seemed to deflate at the words.

"It will be the first time in a while that we will all be together again, only to be separated once more," Lucy said.

"We will come back for the holidays," Alexa added, but she knew, as they felt, that this was insufficient.

"Even when we leave this train, we'll be going to separate homes, Alexa," said Edmund.

"Right, with my mother…To think, I haven't seen her in over fifteen years…" Alexa mused thoughtfully. As the other three mulled on the fact as well, the conversation died off from small talk about what they would do in the summer, to silence. The rest of the ride passed in this fashion, until they came to a stop in front of the station in London. They exited the train, gathered their belongings, and made their way to the waiting area.

"Peter! Lucy! Edmund!" The three Pevensies turned at the sound of their mother's voice and, besides the luggage they carried, very nearly ran to her, their father, and Susan, who also greeted them. Alexa's mother, Mary Williams, also came for her. She enveloped her in the warmest embrace Alexa had felt in years, and had barely remembered the feel of her mother's calming touch. But she was inexorably glad for it. Both families had their small reunion, and introduced the adults to one another.

"It's wonderful to meet you, I'm Helen Pevensie," the Pevensies' mother greeted Mary Williams with a hand outstretched.

"It's my pleasure, I'm Mary Williams," she replied. She also met John Pevensie in the same way, and they said their "hello's," and "how do you do's?" before the five children explained their close-knitted friendship that had formed in their time in the Professor's home. They all stood and talked there at the station for about an hour, until all agreed it was time to finally go home.

"Goodbye, sister," Alexa whispered as she embraced both Susan and Lucy respectively.

"We'll see you shortly," said Susan sadly.

"Very shortly, like tomorrow," Lucy quipped with a bright smile. Alexa returned it in agreement, and turned to Edmund.

"Make sure you get me something nice for Christmas," he said comically as he pulled her into a bear-hug.

"Ed, it's summer! Christmas isn't for months, you git."

"I know, just reminding you for a later date."

"Right."

He pulled away and pushed her lightly toward Peter, who was trying to stifle his laughter. She smiled as he enveloped her in an easy embrace, but had to close her eyes against the burn of tears. As happy as she was to be with her mother again, parting with the Pevansies was losing her family. She knew things would never be the way they used to be, and it scared her. Most of all, parting with Peter was a knife twisting in an open wound.

"See you soon, love," he whispered, so that the prying ears of their parents could not hear. His had disappeared into her hair and down her back in comfort. "I promise."

Alexa shuddered a sigh and tried to take strength from his embrace, take the courage she used to have.

"I love you," she whispered. She felt his kiss on the top of her head, but still silently mourned that she couldn't at least kiss him goodbye.

"I love you," Peter replied, and tried to smile. "Be good, for my sake."

At this Alexa did smile a little.

"I'll try."


	2. June, 1942 — August, 1942

**_AU:_ I didn't get too many thoughts or complaints from the first chapter, so I hope you all are satisfied with the beginning of this story. Here is chapter two, for your enjoyment. This chapter is set a month after the previous, but for future reference, this will not always be the same. There will be instances where a lapse of a few months, or even a year or two will pass. **

**WARNING: For crude language. **

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><p><em>~Hereafter~<em>

Chapter Two – June, 1942 — August, 1942

_June, 1942_

The next month was spent catching up with their families and friends they had known before their relocation, and spending time with each other before the two eldest left for university. They both had received letters of their acceptance: Peter passing with flying colors, while Alexa had barely made excellence, but achieved a high enough mark. By the end of June, the two were encouraged to start packing. They would be expected to move into their respective dorms within the month of July, no earlier than the first week, no later than the last.

"This isn't right. We only just got here all together, and now we'll be splitting up again," said Lucy. The five sat together in the park closest to the Pevensie home, about half a mile away. The mild, summer day was bright with the sun, not a cloud in the sky. The light breeze toyed with the loose hems of their clothing and tossed the girls' hair.

"We're not that far. You can always call," said Peter.

"And we'll call you too," added Alexa with a grin. "We need to know what's going on in your school lives."

"I'll be at the top of my class, for sure," Susan said in mock vanity. Edmund rolled his eyes.

"Sure, I bet she'll bludgeon someone to death just to get the highest marks on record." She gave him a simmering glare.

"And you'll be the class clown," Susan quipped. "Dunce cap and all."

"People love me for my maturity," he boasted.

"People love to laugh at your pranks," muttered Lucy. Alexa held her hands in the shape of a square in front of her face, focusing Edmund's head into the square.

"What are you doing?" Edmund asked.

"Picturing you with a dunce cap."

"I say it fits," said Peter as he also looked through her hands. Edmund rolled his eyes once again and pushed his brother over with a hand to Peter's shoulder, knocking over Alexa as well.

"Hey!" Peter said with a laugh.

"Oof, get off! You're heavy!" said Alexa, pushing again him with her arm, though she laughed with everyone else. They enjoyed the afternoon in the sun, reminiscing about past-times spent and gatherings in the future.

* * *

><p>June came and went in a blur, preceding the more saturating heat July would bring. About midway through the month, the two eldest gathered their belongings, and took the train into London. There were heartfelt (and tearful, from the women) goodbyes from family members, including Peter's siblings. The three wished the two luck (well, Edmund wished his brother good sense, as he didn't believe in luck), while John Pevensie gave his son wise words.<p>

"Live your life—every day to the fullest. Take nothing for granted, and keep your self-respect and respect for others," he had said, firmly clasping his son's shoulder and hand.

"Thanks, Dad."

"Remember that, and you can never go wrong."

"I'll remember."

The ride was long, seemed longer than it truly was, but it stirred anticipation within the two. They wondered about their schedules, possible roommates within their dorms, other things they would be given.

"We'll go to the front office and pick up our things once we get there. Do you know where your room is?" Peter asked.

"Um, I think it's on the right side of the dormitories. The section is only for freshmen women."

"I'm on the left then, obviously. You decided on Global History Studies for your major?"

"Yes, it was the closest thing to what I was doing before with the maps. Yes, I love geography, but I decided to brush up on European history."

"Where do you think you'll take that as a career?" Alexa paused in thought for a moment.

"You know, I don't really know. I hadn't thought that far…"

"I had thought of teaching, but I'm not sure."

"I think you would be a good teacher," she said with a smile.

"You think so?"

"You always explained things for the exam wonderfully for me. I would think hard about it."

"Hmm, perhaps," he said. There the conversation drifted to other things, where they would probably go to work on assignments and projects, what locations were exceptional for meals, places to go for entertainment in the town of London. Eventually, the train stopped at the station. They gathered their belongings, and a cabby took them to the busy town of *****Ashbridge, where crowds of people bustled the wide sidewalks, automobiles and cabbies loudly honked their horns and filled the streets. Both Peter and Alexa looked out their windows in the vehicle. They marveled at the many colorful buildings and shops and elegant scenery made by lights, city statues, and decorative greenery. And finally, they pulled up by the lobby. Outside the glass, double doors, two large banners hung on either side of a wide sign. It read, _University of Ashbridge_.

"It's amazing," Alexa said in awe after they had vacated the cab and paid the driver.

"It's quite impressive, I'll admit," Peter replied. He led them to the front office, where a plump woman, in a dress a _tad_ too small for her, sat at a large desk and peered up at them from her clipboard through silver-rimmed glasses.

"May I help you?" she asked shortly.

"Yes," Peter began, clearing his throat awkwardly. "We would like what we need for the start of our year here…in the letter it said that the front desk would have what we need."

"Yes, hold on a moment please. Oh, what are your names?"

"Peter Pevensie and Alexa Williams." The woman proceeded to gather information, looking through extensive files in the long drawers packed to the brim in her desk. In about ten minutes, she had pulled out all the things they would need: identification cards that affirmed them as students of Ashbridge, keys to their rooms, meal cards if they wished to eat in the cafeteria, and schedules of the few classes they would have to take per day in a five-day school week. It held the feel of a more sophisticated high school.

"I guess I will see you later, then?" Alexa asked, standing a bit awkwardly with her luggage. Their rooms were on opposite ends of a lot designated to the dormitories.

"Meet for lunch at that restaurant we saw on the map in an hour?" Peter suggested.

"Sure," she said with a smile.

"All right then, see you then." He gave her a chaste kiss before schlepping his luggage up the two flights of steps to the room. He took his time unpacking as he viewed his surroundings. The bedroom was small, but the dorm itself was like a small apartment. It had its own kitchen, bathroom, and three bedrooms. There was a moderate living space with a coffee table and a three-part furniture set: a couch, two end tables on either side of it, a smaller love seat, and a recliner. The room was very nice, he thought. It was a good thing they had gotten scholarships, or else he or his family would not have been able to afford this nice place. Alexa's mother would not have been able to afford this luxury either.

By the time he had finished packing it was about time to meet Alexa for lunch. He grabbed his keys and his wallet before leaving.

* * *

><p>"Did you finish unpacking?" he asked after taking another sip of water.<p>

"No," Alexa sighed. "Almost. I have too much stuff."

"I would have helped you carry your bags up the stairs if I had known," said Peter.

"No, it was fine. They weren't that heavy."

"Still…"

"Anyways, what do you have for your schedule?"

"First thing at eight in the morning, I have…" They proceeded to exchange what they would be having over the course of a semester term, and things of what Peter's siblings could possibly be doing.

"Susan's probably already getting ready for school, practicing her grammar," Peter mused with a smile.

"Ed is probably getting in all the rest he can before he'll have to start waking early," said Alexa.

"And trying to drag his sisters into activities outside."

"Lucy will…just be Lucy."

"Never let anything take the smile off of her face," Peter said wryly. It was with a pang that he felt the absence of his family. It hadn't even been a day and he already missed them.

"I know," said Alexa. She could read the look in his eyes, because she felt the same.

* * *

><p>"That was delicious. I can't believe I actually had leftovers," said Peter as they walked up the stairs to his dorm.<p>

"I know, but my sandwich was huge. I couldn't finish," she agreed. He opened the door with his key and they entered the room. She set her box of food on the counter as he put his away in the refrigerator.

"Here, let me show you around really quickly. It's not that big." Peter proceeded to show her the entirety of the apartment, and she surmised that her apartment was quite the same, except that the rooms were positioned differently according to the building structure.

"It's very nice," she said.

"I could get used to it," Peter said with a shrug.

"I better go, I don't think I'm allowed in here," she said with a frown.

"That's true…but it's not like they know you're here," he said playfully. She only gave him a _look_.

"All right, go," he said with a smile. She returned it, and he accompanied her to the door leading to the women's dormitories. They said their goodbyes, and he made the trek back to his room.

Peter turned the key in the lock and reentered the dormitory. Upon arrival, his senses were assaulted with the pungent smell of roasted pork. He turned his head toward the counter and found a stranger in his kitchen. A fork was in his hand, and in his mouth he chewed meat from the container, which sat on the countertop. He was tall, with dark, mussed hair that hung to his shoulders. Wide, blue eyes stared back at Peter with feigned innocence.

"What _are_ you doing?" Peter asked incredulously. _Who_ was this_ stranger_ in his _kitchen?_

"Eating," the man replied. "A bit obvious, don't you think?"

"That's not your food!" Peter insisted. His gaze turned to his luggage, which sat splayed open on the coffee table. He had _not_ left his things in this fashion.

"Did you _go through my things?_"

"Wanted to make sure my new flat-mate wasn't a loon, or a pedophile. Or something of that nature…you don't have any concealed weapons on your person, do you?" Peter regarded the man for a moment, baffled by his audacious behavior.

"Who the _bloody hell_ are you?"

"Who are _you_, is more the question. You're not a rapist, are you? Because I simply cannot associate with someone who can't have consensual sex with a woman. It's just saying you're in desperate need." Peter was dumbfounded.

"_Get the hell out!_" He pointed to the door for good measure.

"You can't throw me out! I live here, or didn't you notice my things in that bedroom over there?" The man gestured to the open door of said bedroom. And from where Peter stood he could see the luggage bags. He could only _assume_ it belonged to this git.

"Those are yours?" he asked in a deadpan. The other man grinned.

"I'm here to stay, mate. Better get used to me. I'm Richard Kingsley. Just got in from Cambridge." He came from around the counter and held out a hand to Peter, who looked at it doubtfully. There was a long pause, in which both men stared blankly at one another in semi-tension. But eventually, Peter also held out his hand.

"Peter Pevensie."

"That's one hell of a mouthful. Where you from? You look like a city bloke. I'll bet you're a Londoner, eh?" Richard asked. There were no real rests between his words, just one question fired after another in the man's blasé manner of speaking.

"Finchley."

"Ah, well. Close enough. I've been to Finchley. Good sandwiches they make there. Only went once though," Richard began with a grin. "Ma' dad had a client there and look me along, hopin' I would take to the trade. He's an insurance salesman by the way." Peter felt a small smile dance upon his lips at the young man's brevity easy attitude and lilting phrases. His personality was, by his standards, a little bit uncouth, but refreshing.

"You said no, I presume," said Peter.

"Hell no! I ain't going to do that boring stuff. Instead I decided to come here, lookin' for somethin' to do with my life. I reckon I'd meet plenty of women, find me somethin' to strike my fancy at the university here besides shit and eat. Maybe even get a job, if I feel like it." So, there was _some_ sense of responsibility left in the youth yet, Peter thought. By this time, Richard had come closer as conversation grew more comfortable, and less hostile. He leaned in toward Peter now and again as he accentuated certain words, adding to the sense of bravado his speech induced.

"What are you planning on studying?"

"I'm undecided. But I figured I would go to a few classes, maybe pick up something useful."

"What are your interests?" Richard made a show of tapping a finger on his chin and turning his eyes to the ceiling in thought.

"Women. Galas. Other events. Books…Women. The easy life really." Peter sighed and shook his head. What was becoming of his generation?

"Books are a good start," he surmised. Richard glanced at Peter with a lop-sided grin.

"What are you in for?" he asked.

"I'll be majoring in English Literature."

"Hmm, a lit. junky. That'd be why you talk so bloody proper." Peter gave a grin, then.

"It's how I've been taught."

"Ah, you've come from a strict family too? Bloody terrible, ain't it? My father didn't, still doesn't, put up with nothin' shitty. No funny business. Mother didn't say much when I was growin' up, but she did well by me. You?"

"My family is good to me," Peter said, his grin softening to a small smile.

"You're not a man of many words, are you? Words enough to be a literature major, I guess. You got a family?"

"Yes, two sisters and a brother."

"Oh really? You don't say. I have a brother myself."

"Older or younger?" Peter asked.

"Older. Not by much, only a few years," Richard replied.

"What's his name?" Richard laughed a bit.

"He has a hell of a name—George Michael Kingsley. On first look at his name, people take him for some celebrity or another. Then they look at him good, and _still_ think him a celebrity..." The conversation lasted like this for a while, into dinner and the a couple hours into the night. They exchanged stories of their childhood and personal interests, and the two seemed to quite hit it off. Something that might not have been expected from their…interesting first meeting.

* * *

><p>Alexa entered the room, box in hand, and immediately came face to face with a young woman, shorter than her, with auburn curls that framed her face. Her eyes were wide with surprise, a light hazel, and the book that had been in her hand dropped to the floor. Alexa almost dropped the container of food as well, but managed to keep a grip on it.<p>

"Oh, I'm so sorry, let me help you," said Alexa. She helped the girl with her book, and handed it to her.

"Thank you. I'm sorry about that," said the red-head.

"It's no problem. Hello, I'm Alexa Williams." Alexa held out a hand.

"I'm Linda Thomas. It's a pleasure," she said.

"The pleasure's mine. I'm sorry for surprising you, I wasn't expecting anyone else, I guess."

"That's quite all right. I saw your things on the counter, and I peeked inside the bedroom, sorry."

"Again, it's no problem. I most likely would have done the same thing. Let's sit down for a while, unless you were going somewhere…"

"Oh no, I was just going to check the bulletin board out there on the wall, since I really had nothing else to do but kill time, but let's sit then." Linda motioned to the couch by the coffee table.

"Where are you from?" Linda asked after they were situated.

"Finchley. I just got in today. And you?" Alexa questioned.

"I'm from here, just transferred from the local grade school of Ashbridge to here. I came this afternoon," Linda replied.

"Oh really? Then you can tell me about this place. It seems so exciting. On the way here we passed by so many shops and interesting looking buildings."

"Oh yes, there are many sight-seeing locations, as well as activities…there is a movie theatre, a park, several shopping districts, things like that."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Yes, and there's this one place…" Linda told Alexa of Ashbridge, and its perks. But she also warned of the dangers that come with a town that thrives on entertainment and tourism. There was the obvious: do not go into any alleyways, or risk being mugged. Steer clear of the late night drunks that stumble out of certain pubs, for some are dangerous to run into at night. And even watch out for what parties you may get invited to, as some late night college festivities attract negative attention (information Linda was...hesitant to give Alexa at the time), and sometimes the authorities.

It was late at night before she fell asleep, and even later when she woke the next morning. Sluggish and feeling sleep-deprived despite over-sleeping, she dressed for the day. Alexa entered the living room, and saw a haggard looking woman sprawled on the couch.

"What in the world?" she said aloud.

"I have no idea," began Linda. She stood in the kitchen, cutting an apple. "She was here when I woke up this morning. I think those are her bags over there." Linda pointed to the third bedroom, which indeed held luggage that was neither hers, nor Alexa's.

"So…she's our roommate as well," said Alexa, peering closer at the woman. "She looks a little mangy."

"I think she's drunk. Or at least, she was drunk," said Linda.

"You're right, I smell the alcohol on her."

"Should we wake her up?"

"Might as well."

"All right, well…go ahead."

"Why should I do it?"

"Just give her a douse with some cold water."

"What?"

"Just kidding," Linda said with a chuckle. Alexa sighed.

"Let's just shake her awake."

"Fine, you go first." Linda took on a nervous expression as the other woman glared at her. "Again, kidding." Linda tentatively shook the sleeping woman awake, who groaned and protested at being disturbed.

"_What the fuck do ya' want?_" she slurred, her Irish accent prominent. Alexa walked around the couch and stood beside Linda, arms crossed in front of her chest.

"I want you out of this dorm room if you don't belong here," she stately plainly.

"I live here, smart arse. Now _keep your fecking voice down._" The woman rubbed her head and squinted her eyes in obvious pain. Alexa's eye twitched.

"Get off this couch and into a shower. You reek of liquor." The woman lying on the couch glared, but then gave a smirk.

"What are you, my mother? Go wash yourself of that prissy-ass attitude." Alexa pursed her lips in annoyance. She wanted to wash the woman's mouth out with soap.

"Who are you?" Linda asked quickly. She glanced at Alexa, who was silently fuming.

"…Diane," she said begrudgingly.

"Well, we would appreciate it if you just cleaned yourself up. Would you like breakfast?" said Linda. Diane regarded her for a moment in silence, inwardly wondering at the small woman. Why would she offer such a thing when they had only just met? Alexa thought along the same track for a minute, until her reasonable mind slowly came back to her.

"_We should at least still be hospitable, even if she is…hostile_," thought Alexa.

"If you're makin' food for everyone, then I'll eat."

"Alexa, would you like breakfast?"

"Thank you, that would be lovely."

"'_Thank you, that would be lov-e-ly_,'" Diane mimicked as she got up from the couch. "Geez, what a feckin' princess."

"I will not dignify that with a response."

"You just did, smart arse."

"Stop _calling_ me that!"

"Oh, dear," Linda muttered.

* * *

><p><em>August, 1942<em>

Susan wrote in her notebook furiously. She copied the notes left on the board, droning out the monotone voice of the teacher in her concentration. It was her goal to get excellent marks this year, no matter the cost. If she wanted to be able to get the best in life after college, she needed to be the best. But she still made time for her many friends.

"Psst, Su," her friend, Anna, whispered. She pointed to a slip of paper left on Susan's desk.

_"The gala at Walter Harrison's is this weekend. Would you like to come with us?"_

Susan ripped a piece of paper from her notebook and wrote, "_Sure. At what time is it?_"

* * *

><p>Edmund tapped his pencil against the desk impatiently. He simply couldn't get into the concept of geometry. It was a refresher course for him, easy for his analytical mind. But it was as dull as watching paint peel.<p>

"_I could smack my head with a brick_," he thought. "_Listening to Alexa drone on about topography is more remotely interesting_."

"Mr. Pevensie." Edmund looked up to see his teacher towering above his desk, a disapproving frown marring her youthful face.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"You will do well to pay attention in my class."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Since you see fit to daydream, please work this problem out on the board." Edmund worked it out flawlessly, to the instructor's slight chagrin, he could tell. But when he returned to his seat he made an effort to at least _appear_ as if he was paying attention to the lesson.

Eventually, the class came to an end, as well as the school day. He walked to the school's library on the first floor. It was large, with rows and rows of shelves filled to the brim with knowledge and resources. It was paradise. He took a seat at one of the long tables set up for students, and began working on assignments.

"Um, excuse me?" Edmund looked up from his text books to see a young girl, petite, but about his age.

"Yes?" he asked.

"May I sit here?" She gestured to a chair at the same table, a little ways from him. He nodded, but raised a brow. She didn't need his permission to sit two yards away from him. In any case, he continued to work on his history assignments. It was something about early Greek philosophy, but he was having a hard time concentrating.

"Oh…that's not good," the girl murmured to herself. He didn't bother to look up, but tried his best to block her out.

"My goodness, seriously?" she muttered.

He furrowed his brows in concentration.

"What an inopportune time…"

He blinked at the page he had been rereading over for the fifth time in a row.

But there was a pause in which he was given blissful silence, and then…

"Goodness, really?"

Edmund sighed, and put his pencil down on the table.

"Excuse me, do you _mind?_"

She looked up at him, eyes wide with shock. In her hand was a broken pencil and old, yellowed pages fallen out from the binding of her text book.

"I'm so very sorry, am I distracting you?" she asked in a small voice.

"As a matter of fact, yes," he answered in annoyance.

"I'm sorry."

"Just, please…you know what, here." Edmund dug into his bag and retrieved a pen. He handed it to her, and she smiled.

"Thank you. Again, sorry." He felt a tad guilty for snapping at the girl, but at least she would no longer be a distraction.

"Don't mention it."

...

"I'm in your geometry class," she said, not thirty seconds later. He sighed.

"Is that so…"

"I saw you work Mrs. Thomas' problem on the board."

"I suppose you did."

"That class must come easily for you, then."

"It does."

"I…never mind."

He left it at that and didn't question her sudden change of mind in conversation. After about five minutes, in which he heard nothing from the girl, he peered up at her. Her brows were knitted and her lips were pursed. She tapped the pen lightly against her arm as she tried to work out a question. Edmund glanced at the book, and saw the familiar cover of their geometry text. He almost sighed again.

"Do you need help?" he asked in defeat. She looked up with wide eyes.

"Oh…um…" Edmund stood from his chair and walked around the table. He took the seat next to her, and began to explain. An hour later, they parted ways as Edmund left to meet his sisters. It was only when he had tucked in for the night that he dully noted—he hadn't given his name, or she her own name.

* * *

><p><strong>*The town of Ashbridge is my own making, and is not a real town with whatsoever. <strong>


	3. December, 1942

**I know I haven't updated in a while. Over Thanksgiving I worked on this chapter, as well as future chapters, but didn't finish this one. It's out of character for me, since I'm one of those people who has to have everything in order. ;D Well, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Please drop a review on your way out if you have a comment. They're encouraging. :)**

**WARNING: Some foul language.**

* * *

><p><em>~Hereafter~<em>

Chapter Three – December, 1942

_December 23, 1942_

"WHAT THE HELL?" Alexa shouted. She looked at her hair in the mirror, gaping in horror as she saw the bright orange color. Fiercely grabbing the shampoo bottle out of the cabinet in the bathroom, she could see the coloring dye inside.

"_How __did __she __even __find __this __color?_" she thought furiously. Looking in the mirror for a second time, she screamed the name of the woman responsible on the top of her lungs.

"_DIANE!_" She heard mad cackling from the living room, and the quick footsteps of her friend.

"What's the…oh my."

"Linda, take a good look. She's going to die for it," Alexa said calmly, before dropping the bottle in the sink and running into the living room. No one was there, conveniently. But the front door to the dorm was open. Alexa sprinted down the hall, down the stairs, and caught sight of Diane running out the main doors.

"I thought you would like the carrot look!" Diane shouted over her shoulder.

Alexa wasn't a violent person by nature. She had survived several battles and more than her share of war. But rarely had she been as angry as she was in this moment.

She chased her roommate downstairs, across the courtyard and into the cafeteria, where most students were already having breakfast. Diane weaved through people, around tables, and around the buffet. Alexa narrowly avoided hitting a boy holding his tray of food, but managed to swerve at the last moment.

"Maybe I should call you carrot-top from now on, huh?" Diane threw over her shoulder as they ran around empty…and not so empty tables.

"I will _pulverize_ you!" Alexa shouted.

"Alexa?" She stopped dead in her tracks, and Diane stopped soon after, realizing she was no longer being pursued.

"Alexa, is that…_you?_" She squeezed her eyes shut, and clenched her teeth.

"_No, _not_ now…_" she thought in agonizing embarrassment. Alexa slowly turned around and saw Peter with his roommate, and with a few of his friends. They were probably just having breakfast before she and Peter had to leave for their train back to Finchley.

"Peter, I—"

"Oh, is _that_ the boyfriend you've been tittering on about? I'm surprised." Diane raised her eyebrows as she smirked. Alexa rolled her eyes and sighed, while Peter raised a brow. He stood and walked forward. His roommate, Richard, also stood, but stayed near the table.

"Not quite the little girl you thought I was?" Alexa asked sardonically, not bothering to turn around to face her.

"Oh princess, you're everythin' I thought you were," Diane mocked. "A Plain Jane little powder puff...and I'm willing to bet you're still a virgin."

She waved coquettishly at the men at Peter's table, who were looking on in amusement. Alexa shook her head and sighed again. Peter joined her side and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"It's Diane, right?" he asked. Diane looked at him with a small smirk.

"Right," she said through lowered lashes. Alexa's fists clenched.

"'Dirty Diane,' Isn't that you're nickname?" Diane's eyes widened marginally.

"Not very original, I think," Peter said, and slid his arm around Alexa's waist possessively. "It was...a pleasure to meet my girlfriend's roommate."

* * *

><p>They had to rush to get all their things together to leave for their train, but Alexa managed to say goodbye to Linda before they left for the station. It would only be a short hour before they would be back in Finchley for Christmas.<p>

"I'm still in shock," Alexa laughed. She placed her purse inside the department above theirs seats and took hers near the window.

"I am too," Peter mused. He sat across from her with a book in his lap.

"Her face was priceless!"

"I feel badly about insulting her like that."

"It was wonderful!"

"I shouldn't have. It hurt my pride as a gentleman."

"Oh, come off it you were marvelous, with a straight face and everything. I love you."

Peter sighed.

"You shouldn't love me for that."

"Why not?"

"It was inappropriate. Bringing up her…personal life." Alexa chortled at this.

"You mean her public life. Everyone knows she's like that."

"Still, to have it thrown in your face by another man…"

"You know what makes me feel badly? Having to visit your parents' house looking like a bloody orange, that's what." Peter took another look at her hair, and had to bit his lip to refrain from laughing out loud. She pouted.

"Stop it! When we get to Finchley, the first place I'm going to is a department store to scavenge for any hair dye I can find close enough to my natural color."

"You're not going to leave it like this? But it's so—"

"If it's so important for you to _get_ to your parents' house, you won't finish that sentence." Peter laughed and held up his hands in a placating manner.

"What made you speak up," she asked him, a little more seriously.

"Wasn't it obvious? My wife needed me." He twisted a lock of her now brightly-colored hair between his fingers. Alexa smiled a little. "And her comments might've irked me."

"Considering I'm not a virgin, for starters," Alexa mumbled. Peter had to smother his laughter as to not disturb the people in nearby suites.

* * *

><p>Once arriving at the station in Finchley, the two went their separate ways. Mary was there to meet them and drove her daughter home, while Peter took a cab to his family's house. Once she was settled at home, Alexa helped her mother put up the wall hangings their family had traditionally hung every Christmas. This, among other traditions, was not Alexa's favorite. Only because she couldn't reach the nails that had been placed in the wall for them. She stretched her arm upward as high as she could, straining muscle even as she stood on the tips of her toes.<p>

"I'm sorry, but you look ridiculous."

"Thank you, Mum. I appreciate that."

"You're welcome. The orange completes it."

"You found the hair dye, right?"

"Yes I did, fortunately for you. I had to fend off several middle-aged women overdone with cosmetics, but I managed to find something close to your natural color."

"Thank you. Again, I appreciate the effort."

"It was against my better judgment. I'd rather you suffer a little with it. Learn your lesson for being snooty with other people instead of trying to help them. But I didn't want to be seen with you in that outrageous get-up." Alexa sighed. She hadn't told her mother all of what happened (mostly excluding what Diane said), just the general facts to keep some of what was left of her dignity.

"Could you help me, maybe?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

Alexa glared.

"Oh fine. Move over. It was so much easier when we had your father do these." Alexa paused and glanced at her mother. After a moment, Mary sighed.

"I'm sorry, dear."

"Never mind, I just…need a hand here."

In another hour, they had finished the decorations around the house. The two sat to quite a verbal meal, catching up on the past few months. Situations of living, people they had met, places they had been.

"I feel badly about leaving you here alone. I'm almost never here," Alexa said.

"Don't worry about that. I get off well. I have plenty of friends here in our neighborhood, I have a job now. Bet you never thought your mother would be off working." Not that Alexa was _that_ surprised. All women were being forced to go out now that they lived in such straining times made by the war. It was common talk now, women taking up men's vocations. What once was taboo was now an everyday occurrence in the past couple of years. Although, it was strange to think of.

"What are you doing now? I thought you were a cabby."

"I was in the summer. Now I'm in the production line—the glass and plastic industrial building, a train ride into London each day."

"Sounds like a hassle."

"Not really. I enjoy the ride to catch up on my reading."

"You mean the puzzles in the paper?"

"…Eat your carrots, carrot top."

But soon, as the decorations made the atmosphere viewed more festive, the conversation dissolved into stories previously thought long forgotten—of other Christmases past.

"Well, that year your father had just gotten promoted. He wanted to spoil you, though I suggested coal."

"Beautiful, Mother. Only you would give coal to your own child."

"Damn right I would. He didn't see you when I sent you off to school in the morning, or on those weekends he was gone for business things. He spoiled you rotten, I say," she teased. Alexa rolled her eyes playfully.

"Obviously he loves me more than you do."

"No, I love you the same as he did. I just enforce the brilliant lesson of tough love."

"If he could hear you right now…"

"I'm sure he would agree with me."

"He always gives you exactly what you want."

"He did."

"Why are you doing that?" Alexa asked, standing from her seat at the dining table.

"Doing what?"

"_That_."

"_What?_"

"Talking about him as if…as if…" Alexa paused. She was irritated, but she couldn't formulate the thought correctly.

"Dear, sit down." Against her proper judgment, Alexa obeyed.

"Where do you think your father is?" Mary asked.

"I don't know…in battle somewhere."

"The war is nearly over. Even your friends' father has been discharged…"

"W-What are you saying?" Alexa's eyes became wide, and Mary's glassy at the aghast expression of her daughter. She hesitated.

"…I've given up," she said simply. "I have…I loved him. But—"

"Stop, just _stop_. Don't—"

"I still hold him in my heart." Mary paused, covering her face with her hand as her emotions finally took over. "I'll never…not again…not like that again…but I have peace. I made peace long ago. I hope you one day will as well." Alexa couldn't control her sobs, try as she might to quash them. Mary came around the table and held her close.

"How do you know?" Alexa managed through her emotions.

"I just know. A feeling in my heart."

"He's still fighting for us, I _know_ it." Mary didn't have the heart to refute her, but shook her head.

"One day, you will make peace."

* * *

><p>Upon entering his home, he was attacked with hugs and kisses from his mother and sister and given a firm handshake from his father, as well as a strong welcoming embrace from his brother. As he began taking out decorated boxes from a suitcase, his mother began firing questions without restrain.<p>

"How has school been? Have you made any friends? How is Alexa? How are your classes? Have you been getting enough to eat over there? You look a bit thin, dear. Oh, my goodness, let me help you with those. Here I am, blabbering on while you've just gotten through the door—"

"It's fine, Mum," Peter said with a laugh.

"No, no, I insist. Edmund! Grab your brother's things and take them to your room. Susan, get him something to drink, he looks parched. John? John! Where are you?"

She paused from her work at getting out the few presents, and looked around the small living room. There was a long couch, with a smaller loveseat beside it (closest to the door), and a recliner on the far side. In front of the couch, between the recliner and the loveseat, sat a simple coffee table. The entire house itself wasn't very large, but it was comfortable. It held a warmth Peter had missed while living at university. A familiarity no time elsewhere could quench.

Edmund begrudgingly did as he was told, shaking his head and grumbling all the way (something about brothers who get pampered to death).

"Thanks, Ed!" Peter called with a smirk. Edmund rolled his eyes, trudging up the stairs. Susan let out a giggle as she left for the kitchen, leaving Lucy to attack her eldest brother once again.

"We've missed you so much! It hasn't been the same without you." Her words were muffled, as her face was buried in his warm jacket.

"Of course it hasn't, I make every day worthwhile!" he teased. She rolled her eyes, but beamed and pulled away.

"How has everything been going at university?" she asked.

"Well enough. Classes are challenging, people there too. All most of them do is attend parties and socialize after hours," he replied with a sigh.

"That's frustrating," she sympathized.

"You learn to ignore them. I've attended a few myself, but I've had to study hard."

"For once in your life," his mother teased, joining the conversation.

"Hey, I studied in secondary school!"

"Not much. You were smart enough to get by without really working hard," added Lucy. Though this was more of a product of having learned most of the subjects long before.

"Not this year. There are too many assignments and examinations to have much free time. You either study, or fail."

"That seems simple enough," said Helen.

"A simple concept, not so simple to follow through with. But I'm learning a lot about my craft. You wouldn't believe how many articles and papers and short stories I've had to write since the beginning of the school year," said Peter. He took off his jacket and sat on the couch, where his sister and mother joined him. Susan came in from the kitchen as well, holding Peter's drink and a plate of cookies Helen had made that morning.

"That sounds exciting, what sort of stories?" Susan asked while placing the tray on the coffee table. Edmund came down the stairwell and also plopped down on the loveseat.

"Hold on, Peter. Edmund, where is your father?" Helen asked.

"He's com—"

"I'm here, I'm here. I just had to take a call." John greeted his son warmly and took his seat on the recliner before gesturing for Peter to continue.

"Well," he began, clearing his throat. "Let me think…oh! All right, here's one. A young princess had thought the prince she had chosen to marry was perfect for her in every way: charming, intelligent, witty, chivalrous, a gentleman. He conducted himself with honor within her household, with her four other siblings. But when he convinces her to visit his homeland, his true colors are revealed. Now, it all starts with a letter the prince's ambassadors send her highness…"

"Somehow I get the feeling I've heard this before," Edmund whispered to Lucy. Susan heard, however, and pinched him.

"Owch!"

"Hush," Helen ordered sternly. "Do continue, Peter."

Peter grinned.

"As I was saying, it started with a letter the prince's ambassadors send her highness…"

The rest of the night went something like this—trading stories and amusing memories. It was during supper that evening, that Peter was questioned again of life at university with friends and other things. Mostly by Helen, who was quite curious of what her son was doing away from home. Not that she was particularly suspicious of her son. She knew he was responsible. She only…worried.

"Well Mum, much of it is expected. Frivolous-living young adults who shouldn't have that much time on their hands, some who enjoy the night life far more than they should. But there are others that truly are there to learn," said Peter.

"You are associating with those that are of the latter group, I hope," said John.

"Yes, Dad. Of course." Which was somewhat of a lie, if he counted Richard, James, Thomas, Charles…all right, most of his friends. But, they all did well enough to pass at least.

"Have you met any nice young women, Peter?" asked Helen. Side-chatting ceased with the question. Susan and Lucy acted as neutral as possible, while Edmund couldn't fight off the grin tugging upward at his lips. Peter willed his mind to come up with a valid-sounding answer.

"Yes, I suppose I've met some very lovely ladies," he replied.

_And __some __not __so __lovely_, he thought privately.

"Any in particular?" asked John.

"Yeah, Pete. Anyone in particular?" Ed chimed in. Peter nearly beat the grin off his brother's face, but restrained from doing so on account of there being so many witnesses.

"Not really…"

"Oh come now, son. You're coming to an age where—"

"Dad, please—"

"You're going to start developing—"

"Please, spare me the—"

"Thoughts and feelings—"

"—Lecture. _Please_, Mum, make him stop—"

"Toward the opposite sex that—"

"Dad, I understand—"

"May start to engross your thoughts if left unattended—"

"I beg you—"

"And then just…_pop __up_ at—"

"Mum, please _intervene_—"

"The most inopportune times—"

"John."

"Yes, Dear?"

"I think your son is red enough."

John peered at said young man, who sat, head in hand as his siblings practically rolled on the ground beside their chairs.

"If it's all the same, Dad," Edmund said, and took pity on his brother, "I think he only has eyes for one."

"Oh?" Helen asked. "Who, dear?"

Peter rubbed the back of his neck and smiled somewhat nervously. He didn't know exactly why he was nervous. Both his parents liked Alexa dearly, but thought they were only good friends made from being housed at the Professor's house together for so long.

"Well..."

"Wait, I suppose I wouldn't know her, would I?" Helen mused. Peter quirked a small grin.

"Well..."

* * *

><p>Lucy woke that night at unholy hour of the morning, barely able to be called as such. She hadn't really slept soundly to begin with this night, but she had given it a try. Eventually, she slipped out of bed and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. All was dark as pitch, but she managed to side-step her wait around the counter and to the light switch. She flipped it on, and gasped in surprise.<p>

"_Peter_, what _are_ you doing here in the dark? You gave me a fright," she exclaimed.

"Shhh," he motioned to their parents' bedroom across the hall, though he grinned sheepishly. She eyed him through narrowed slits.

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted.

"…Neither could I," Lucy replied.

"Something on your mind?"

"Well…yes, I suppose so."

"You suppose? How is school?" He took his seat at the counter and motioned for his sister to do the same.

"It's fine. I'm not _thrilled _to be there, but I'm getting high marks," she said as she sat down.

"…I wasn't speaking of marks," Peter said pointedly. She regarded him for a long moment. Then, she sighed.

"I don't know. The children are nice enough but…I'm just not used to it quite yet."

"I understand," he murmured.

"I don't know if I ever will be…" She sighed again. "Things will never be the same, will they?"

"Well, define the same." Peter gave a ghost of a smile.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I really don't. What, before leaving Finchley? Before the war? Lu, that's the old life. There's nothing left of that."

"I know that…but I can't _stand __it_." Her hand drew near to her face, covering her now glassy eyes.

"Stand what?" His gaze softened.

"I'm...I'm all right with leaving. It was my home, but this is as well. It's just…I _knew_ him there. I _saw_ him."

"We all saw him…" he trailed.

"You're not following, are you?"

"I'm a tad confused."

"I don't see him here, even though he told me as such…I don't know."

"No, I understand. I…I miss him too, Lu." And he did, he truly did. From the bottom of his heart. But he only had the knowledge that he would see the Lion once again in his country for comfort.

She shook her head. He still didn't get it.

"Before Ed and I left with Eustace, He promised. He told us we could find him in this world." The words did ring familiar within him. He had forgotten…

"I remember…" he trailed.

"Have you found him?" she asked. He shook his head negatively.

"No."

"I didn't think so." Peter observed the young girl sitting across from him, the drawn face of a young _woman_.

"What happened to the little girl that always wore a smile?" he asked with a small frown. She looked down at her slipper covered feet: red, with two, white cotton balls that dangled from the top. They reminded her of Christmas, but never Father Christmas. He didn't look like the depictions of him in a red fat-suite.

"Where's the little girl that always seemed to dance as she walked, that checked on me in the study when she deemed I had worked too long?" he asked, shoving her playfully. She gave a small smile, which made him grin in turn.

"What happened to the girl who made me smile, just by smiling…even when I didn't want to?" He pointed to her upturned mouth teasingly, and she giggled. "Ah, there it is."

He laughed quietly.

"What happened to the young woman, tenacious and stubborn through any obstacle that stood in her path—whether it be squabbling residents, or jump-starting Edmund out of bed?" She laughed out loud then, trying her best to smother the noise.

"What happened to the young woman, whose faith in Aslan rivaled that of any other Narnian?" he whispered. She heard him quite loudly, however, and she very nearly wept.

"You're right. I'm sorry," she said at last, after she had calmed somewhat.

"Don't apologize. Just renew that stubborn trait I know you very well have."

She smiled, then gave him a cursory glance.

"It runs in the family."


	4. May, 1944 – August, 1944

**So, I know I haven't updated recently. BUT, this chapter is extra long to make up for it. ;) Please enjoy, and leave a review on your way out if you would. **

**WARNING: Not really anything in this chapter worth mentioning.**

_~Hereafter~_

Chapter Four – May, 1944 – August, 1944

_May, 1944 _

The Pevensie children and their friend, Alexa Williams, walked along a bustling London street on their way to pick up their groceries. It was summer, which meant Peter and Alexa were able to come back for vacation from Ashbridge once again. They had finished their first, semi-grueling year and had come out well.

This day, Alexa's mother had decided to stay at home while her daughter accompanied the Pevensies into town for the day. Meanwhile, the four siblings had offered to run the errands needed at home. This gave their father and mother some time to rest from their busy week schedules.

Cabby drivers sped down the cobblestone, wagons carrying food rode steadily on, and people walked up and down the wide sidewalks. Peter led them around the corner to the local grocer's department store, and held the door for them. He glanced over their heads, just seeing two young men about his age coming out of a narrow building. In their hands were their clearly worn uniforms. They must have been discharged, seeing as one of them held a crutch under their arm and limped on their right leg, while the other had a thick bandage around their head and their left arm was in a sling.

"Pete, are you coming?" asked Edmund. Peter was startled out of his reverie, and realized that he was still holding the door open.

"I'm fine," he said, walking in after his brother.

Susan and Alexa both carried the items after they had paid at the register, and they exited the store—now on their way to the butcher. As they turned the left corner once more, Peter couldn't help looking back at the building that the two boys had exited.

"Shouldn't we go that way?" he asked, pointing in the opposite direction.

"Oh, Peter you're right. We came from this way," Lucy replied with a cheery smile.

"Ugh, that means we have to turn around," Alexa muttered, shifting the weight of the bags in her hands.

"Do you need help with that?" Edmund asked, eyeing the way her shoulders began to sag.

"It's all right, I'm fine. My arms are just sore from restocking my bookshelf," she replied with a wry grin. The other four winced.

"The ten-foot high shelf?" Susan questioned. Alexa nodded.

"With all your twelve inch, hard cover books from school?" Peter asked, raising his eyebrows.

"They are _not_ twelve inches, but yes. Along with all the ones I read just for fun, which are decidedly smaller," Alexa said with a smirk. Edmund rolled his eyes playfully.

"What, by a few pages? Peter is in English Lit., and even he doesn't have to read books that thick," he commented.

"You know, he's right," Peter said with a short laugh.

"Well, the world is a big place. Then you have to account for different culture, language, topography, weather, climate, location—all these factor in a country's geography. And ultimately, it affects the people and their way of life," stated Alexa.

"That is an awful lot of information," Susan said with a wry smile.

"With so much of the word to study and account for, it's no wonder that the textbooks are so large," Alexa replied.

"You sound like Professor Epps," Peter said, a smirk upon his face. She, being the adult that she was, stuck out her tongue at him.

"_That_ was mature," Edmund commented.

"Of course it was," she said as she grinned. "And if I happen to sound like my World Geography Studies professor, then that means he's teaching me correctly."

"Right, meanwhile I think either I brain lapse every time I go into Professor Dawson's classroom, or she is just the schizophrenic maniac I've taken her for," Peter said dryly as they approached the butcher's shop.

"Hey Lu, do you have the list of meats Mum wanted?" Edmund asked.

"Yes I do, right here," the younger girl replied, handing him the paper.

"Great, all the heavy ones," he murmured.

"Of course," Peter added. The five had made a deal before they set out: Susan and Alexa would carry the things from the grocer, such as jam, biscuits, tea, and other dairy products. Lucy would carry the vegetables from the greengrocer, which she held in her hand. And Peter and Edmund would get the meats, which were usually much heavier.

Adapting to their way of life during the war had become both easier and harder with time—like having to go to five different locations for your supplies. Food had become even more tightly rationed. And most luxury items previously had before the war were no longer available, since most of it was imported from other European countries.

Once they had purchased what they needed from the butcher, they made their way to the railway station. But before passing that one corner, Peter made one last glance at the narrow building, seeing yet another man (perhaps a few years older) come out through the door. He rolled out on a wheelchair, both legs most likely broken.

"Peter, are you alright?" Alexa asked, touching his shoulder with her free hand. He turned to her, looking away from the man. He hadn't meant to stare.

"I'm fine. Let's just get to the train," Peter replied with a small smile. Alexa noticed it was a bit forced.

* * *

><p>"Oh, thank you. You're all so good to me," Helen gushed, beginning to put the groceries away in their proper places.<p>

"It's no problem, Mum. We have nothing to do anyway," Peter said, smiling. She put a motherly hand on his cheek briefly before returning to her task.

"Do you need help putting it all away, Mum?" Susan asked.

"Yes, I would help too," added Alexa.

"Oh no, Dear. Both of you can do as you please now. You all have done enough for me. Why don't you all go to the park? Play some cricket in the field or something?" she suggested. Peter and Edmund couldn't help but give each other knowing looks at the mention of the game.

"Sounds like fun," Peter commented.

"Yes, I need a rematch," said Edmund with a wry grin.

"Oh dear," Lucy sighed.

Alexa and Susan looked to each other with equal expressions of anxiousness as the brothers proceeded to hype one another with good-sported taunts.

...

"Why, oh why, are my brothers so competitive?" Susan asked, standing a ways behind Peter. She really hadn't wanted to come. The idea of getting filthy and sweaty at the park didn't amuse her, and she was most likely going to miss the outing with Margret, one of her friends from school. The girl was throwing a party in light of school's end, and had invited all the most prominent people of their class—including one discharged naval officer, who had taken a liking to her a couple years ago.

But…her brother and best friend had just gotten back from university a couple days ago. Though she probably wouldn't admit it, she had missed them. As much as she adored the soldier, and loved her friend Margaret, she would have to be missed…at least just for this one night.

"It's the testosterone, Su. It blows up their egos," Alexa replied dryly from her position behind Edmund.

"Pity, it never goes away, does it?" Lucy questioned, throwing the ball back to Edmund, who was playing pitcher.

"Oh, like you women are never competitive?" Peter asked, glancing at Alexa. She caught his gaze, and smirked.

"At least we don't get into wrestling matches in gardens to see who can hold the other down," she said with a raised brow. Both Peter and Edmund shifted their gazes in embarrassment.

"Th-that was one time. And there was a reason behind that," Peter started, until Edmund quickly called out.

"Aaaand here's the pitch!" he said before throwing the cricket ball. Not entirely caught off guard, Peter managed to hit it farther than Alexa could reach. She sighed in exasperation, and turned around to run for it.

"You never did tell me why you two were in there," Alexa mused. She looked out the window of the car, watching the blur of the buildings go by. Peter had offered to drive her home, even if she could have easily taken a cab.

"Just…let it go, love," Peter said with a sigh, though he smiled.

"Why? It was quite amusing, though I was a tad bit confused," she said.

"It was nothing. I was just getting him back for something he did after I gave specific orders _not_ to," he replied, grinning wryly.

"Ah, I see." Alexa then paused, reflectively. "Peter, today…you seemed distracted." Peter's grin dropped, and he turned his gaze forward to watch the road.

"I don't know why you would think that." She wasn't convinced in the slightest.

_The Following Week_

Alexa huffed, blowing stray hair out of her face as they walked along the worn path. Looped arm in arm, Peter led their way through the park. It was mildly warm, and a light breeze cooled them as they made their way around the inside of the fence.

"So, remind me again why we came to the park in the city when there is a perfectly nice one near your house?" she asked. Peter smiled, walking them closer to the fence.

"We always go to that park. And besides, if we had gone there, we couldn't do this," he said. He slipped his arm out of her grip to climb over the short, iron railing. Once on the other side, he looked to her expectantly. Alexa quirked a brow.

"Ah, I see. So we're ditching the place we told your mother and my mother we would be," she quipped. Though she let out a small grin, and also made her way over the fence. She felt a supporting hand on her back as she swung her leg over, and then made a small jump. Landing beside him, they both now stood on the sidewalk.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Now, we walk," he said.

"More?" she groaned.

"Naturally."

"Of course." Peter grinned at her sardonic look, and took her hand in his.

"Oh, come on. The city square is more fun that the park anyway." They began to walk towards the cluster of shops, where small cars, cabbies, and trollies passed more frequently on the roads.

"Let's turn this corner," said Peter.

"All right, but I'm not going into the grocer's shop to waste time."

"You just don't like the owner."

"He looks at me strangely. It makes me feel uncomfortable."

"Alexa, he has a lazy eye. He looks at everyone strangely."

"He calls me 'Sweetheart' and 'Baby-doll.'"

"Bernie's an old, senile man who rings up produce for a living. I do suppose he would need _something_ to get his kicks out of life." As Peter said this, his eyes wandered to a tall, white building with two large windows on the side walls. It was the government building in London, a popular location for the registration into the British Army.

Alexa followed his gaze, and almost stilled. She regarded him, and saw that he was pensive, perhaps curious. Realization hit her with a pang.

"_This __is __what __we __came __out __here __for? __All __this __was __just __an __excuse __to __stalk __the __registry __building_," she thought.

"Peter?" she asked hesitantly. It appeared as if he hadn't heard her. His eyes were still fixed on what little he could see from inside the windows.

There was a line assembled, stretched all the way to the doorway in a curve. Some were turned away and exited through the wooden door, and some were accepted, and shown to where they would receive their uniform.

Alexa called his name again, a bit louder this time. Peter blinked, and awoke from his reverie.

"Yes?" he asked, turning to look at her. Her brows furrowed, a small frown marring her face.

"What were you looking at?"

"O-oh, nothing in particular." The response was a bit too rushed for her liking.

"What about the registry is so fascinating?" she asked quietly. He tensed. Peter knew now that he was caught, and let out a deep breath.

"Alexa…can this discussion wait for another time?" he pleaded. But he could see the resolve in her eyes.

"Peter, what aren't you telling me?" He sighed, scratching the back of his head.

"Well…I…" There was no easy way to say this, but he had to try. "I'm thinking of joining the service." She stilled entirely, eyes widening in shock. A bucket of ice had just been poured over her head, a cold jolt running through her mind.

"W-what?" she stammered.

"I'm…considering registering to do my part as a citizen of England." He hadn't wanted to have this conversation in the middle of the busy sidewalk, but at this point he had no choice.

"You're going to go off to war?" she asked loudly, enough to illicit some stares from passerby. Peter took her hand and quickly led her back to the park. She remained silent until they found a bench to sit at, near a large tree that gave the semblance of privacy.

"I said, I was considering it. I'm not entirely sure at the moment," Peter said at last.

"When were you going to tell me about this little 'consideration'?" Alexa punctuated her question with sharp hand motions. It would have been comical any other time or situation. But now Peter could only rub the center of his forehead, feeling the telltale signs of an approaching headache.

"I'm telling you now. I thought we could talk about this rationally."

"You don't think I'm being _rational?_ Peter, you're contemplating going into _war_. Haven't we been in enough?" She lowered her voice at the reference of their previous campaigns, but she was still furious.

"_How __could __he __just __make __a __decision __like __this?_" But…he hadn't made the decision, not yet at least.

"You think I don't know that?" he shouted, swiftly standing to his feet. At looking at Alexa's surprised face, he forced himself to calm down. Yelling at each other would solve nothing. "I did my duty to Narnia, and to my people. Now, I think it's time that I own up to that same responsibility here in England, for my country."

"B-But Peter…in Narnia, we were with you. You would be by yourself, away from your _family!_ This is completely different—"

"How? How is it different?" Peter asked, cutting her off of her sentence. "It's serving my country. Hell, some would call it _noble_."

"Is that why you're doing this? To be _recognized_ again?" she asked, raising her voice once more.

"You _haven__'__t_ been _listening_ to me!" Peter said, matching her volume.

"_No_, I've been listening just fine. You want to do this because you feel it's your responsibility to lend aid to your country. But that doesn't have to be your burden—going into a place of blood and violence and _death_. You can help your country in other ways, like getting an education, providing for your family." Peter turned his head away, a deep frown stretching across his face.

"What would your brother and sisters think of your decision? Your parents?"

"I haven't told them yet," he admitted.

"Are you going to?" she asked.

"Of course…if I decide to go," he replied. She let out a quick, deep breath in exasperation.

"So, you would leave us all behind?" His jaw set firmly, as did his hands clench into balled fists.

"You _know _that's _not _my _intention!_" She looked up at him, and saw the frustration clear in his eyes. Alexa felt the exact same.

"I'm not so sure, Peter." In her anger and agitation, she fled. Carefully, but quickly, she climbed over the fence. Sprinting down the sidewalk in a long skirt proved to be difficult, but she managed. She had been used to running in gowns. Hearing her name being called far behind her only fueled her desire to flee. She found the nearest cabby and gave him what little money she had carried on her.

"Twenty-seventh Avenue and Fifth Street, please," she said.

"Alright, Miss. Say, you okay? Iffin' you don' mind me sayin' so, ya look distressed," the elder cabby commented.

"I'm fine. Just go, please." She wiped her eyes furiously, feeling the tears rapidly sliding down her face.

"_Peter __will __be __all __right. __He __has __his __father__'__s __car_," she couldn't help thinking to herself. She leaned her elbow against the edge of the window and sighed deeply.

* * *

><p>He had hesitated. This proved to be his mistake if he had wanted to catch her. But somehow, he couldn't force his feet to move until he could only hear her falling footsteps faintly. He saw her get into the cab, and stayed standing in the middle of the sidewalk for a couple minutes, thinking. Eventually, he made his way back to the car, and went home.<p>

Lucy had asked upon his arrival what had happened, seeing as Alexa hadn't returned with him. But at his silent brush off, she became concerned. Edmund received much the same treatment, as Susan would have, if she hadn't been attending a gala with some friends from school.

At dinner, Mrs. Pevensie had casually asked him how his day went with his friend.

"Fine," he had said. When probed further, he simply replied with monosyllabic answers. This was to everyone's confusion, and Edmund's suspicion.

Peter pulled back the comforter of his bed and sat. He took of his shoes, placing them on the corner of the nightstand. Before he could slip into thick sheets, however, Edmund walked into their shared room and turned on the lamp. He sat on his bed and stared at Peter.

"Yes?" Peter asked expectantly.

"What happened?" Edmund asked bluntly. Peter blinked, and frowned.

"Nothing."

"That's a damn lie."

"I'm _fine_. _Nothing_ happened," Peter insisted. Edmund's annoyance was clearly written in his expression.

"Look, I've got all night here," said Edmund. "You can't hide from me."

"_He__'__s__r ight_," Peter mused with a sigh. He sat up, and looked hesitantly to his brother.

"I'm…considering registering for war," he said at last. Edmund stilled, and visibly paled. When he was finally able to dislodge his tongue from the roof of his mouth, he managed a reply.

"W-what?" he asked incredulously. Peter felt like banging his head against the wall.

"It's something I'm thinking hard about. I…I feel like I need to serve my country."

"Yes but…can't you do that in other ways?" Now Peter wanted to punch his fist through something solid. The wall next to him looked appealing.

"Like _what?_" Peter asked. How he dreaded what the reply might be.

"Well…I don't know. But Peter…haven't we seen enough carnage? I still have the scars from our previous encounters, as I know you do as well," Edmund said quietly.

"I know, brother but…I see people like Dad, honorably discharged from being heavily wounded. I see men younger than me, risking their lives every day in some God-forsaken country. Meanwhile, I'm here, doing nothing," said Peter.

"So…you feel guilty." Edmund's reply blew Peter's mind, but he realized that his younger brother was right. He did feel guilty.

"I wasted time trying to return to a life that had really, already ended, when I was…am needed," Peter said softly. To this, Edmund replied simply.

"Yes, you are, Peter. It's just a matter of where you're needed."

As his brother's words sunk in, Peter turned off the light, and drifted off to uneasy sleep.

...

"It's alright, Mrs. Williams. I'll call back some other time," Peter said. He thanked the woman, and then hung up the phone.

"She didn't answer again?" asked Edmund from his position on the living room couch, a novel in hand.

"No…I can't figure why," Peter replied. Though, he knew this to also be a lie. She wasn't answering him because she didn't want to talk to him, and it pained him to know that it was his fault. Mostly.

Edmund was skeptical, but he turned back to his book.

"Really? It hasn't occurred to you?" he asked. Peter's silence was Edmund's answer. "Why?" Peter sighed.

"Why do you think?" he dragged a hand roughly through his hair. "When I told her, it shocked her. I've never seen her so angry…"

"She's normally such a docile woman," Edmund muttered.

"She was scared, Ed. I can't blame her for that…but _damn__it_ sometimes she's just so bloody _frustrating_," Peter nearly exclaimed.

"Like you said, she was scared. Hell, I was scared when you told me the day before yesterday."

"Not anymore, eh?" Peter asked.

"Not really. I mean, I'm concerned, and of course I'll be worried about you when you're on the field if you decide to go…but I support you," said Edmund, temporarily setting down the book in his lap.

"Well…thanks, Ed. But now I'm not so sure I should go."

"Oh really?" Edmund's tone showed indifference, but Peter caught the glimmer of hope in his younger brother's eyes…and he deflated that much more. "What brought that on?" Peter grinned a bit.

"Listen, I know it's late, but where's Dad? I need to borrow the car."

* * *

><p>It was nearly nine o'clock at night before he turned the key in its ignition, the car spluttering a bit before turning off. He climbed out of the driver's seat and walked up the cobblestone driveway. Stuffing the keys into his pocket, he raised a hand to rap against the door.<p>

"Alexa, get your bum off the couch! You've been glued to it for two days," said Mary.

"Mum, I'm sorry. I just…I want to finish this novel," Alexa replied, her voice soft-spoken. Mary looked at her daughter and frowned. There was something wrong, something Alexa wasn't telling her. It was an immediate change when she arrived home that afternoon from gallivanting with that boy. Her whole demeanor had altered, withdrawing as she had done after the blitz.

"_Oh, __I __know __it __has __to __do __with __that __boy_," she thought. It wasn't that she _disliked_ him…it was more that she couldn't understand his intentions with her daughter. He appeared respectful, genuinely concerned for Alexa's welfare, but…there was more to it, Mary suspected.

"Well, can't you take a break for just a little while? Go on the porch, get some fresh air. Would you like an orange?" she asked from the kitchen, holding up the round fruit. Alexa shook her head.

"No thanks, Mum. I'm fine," Alexa replied. A knock on the front door surprised her, however, and she looked to her mother.

"Could you get that, dear? I'm cutting up some of this orange for myself. It looks delicious," said Mary.

"Sure, Mum." Though, Alexa was loath to get up from her seat that had been so comfortable. She walked over to the door, and unlocked it before opening it. Her breath hitched.

"Peter? What are you doing here?" she asked. She hadn't meant to sound rude, but it was a shock to see him at nearly nine o'clock in the evening. And…well, she hadn't really _wanted_ to see him, as selfish as it was.

"I know it's late, but…may I please come in?" he asked. His eyes were soft as he spoke, his voice and body language tentative. She couldn't say no.

...

They sat on the porch, the door closed behind them so they wouldn't be overheard, and could have privacy. Sitting on opposite sides of the outside couch, Peter let out a deep breath. Alexa looked to her folded hands on her lap with mixed emotions, but…she couldn't keep silent any longer. She cut him off before he could begin a sentence.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. Taken aback, Peter blinked in confusion.

"What…you're sorry? For what?" he asked.

"For…what I said, for getting so angry. I…I'm sorry I yelled at you, you didn't deserve it," she said, sliding her face into her hands.

"Well…then I'm sorry for being insensitive." She looked up at this.

"Insensitive?"

"I believe I called you irrational, somewhere down the road," he said wryly. She gave a small smile, and leaned her head against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and brought her closer to him.

"Peter, if you want to enlist…then I support you. I _was_ being irrational, and…I reacted out of my fear for you, and for me if I was left alone," she said quietly. Peter glanced down at her from the corner of his eye, and smiled.

"I know. But, _I_ acted out of guilt. When we came back the second time, after Caspian, I realized how much _time_ I wasted in my blind anger, blaming Aslan when I should have been there for my family. I felt like I wasn't there for my country that needed me, England, my home." Peter looked down at his feet for a moment. "But, something Ed said got to me."

"And what was that?" Alexa questioned.

"I don't have to defeat the enemy to defend what is important to me, like in my 'glory days,' so to speak. I'll go anywhere, do anything to protect and provide for my family. Where I can do that best is where I belong. With my father, mother, sisters, brother, and you…and your mother if she gets over her suspicions of me." Alexa laughed, wiping the relieved tears from her eyes.

"You know, that passionate drive is one of the reasons why I married you," she whispered.

"And here I thought it was just for my irresistible good looks," he replied with a grin. She smirked.

"That as well." She could feel the deep rumble of his laughter. "But don't tell me my looks had nothing to do with your inclination towards me."

"Well, your personality has nothing to do with it, so I think it was because you seduced me." Alexa rolled her eyes, swatting him on the leg.

"Right, I seduced _you_. I think you've got your facts a bit twisted."

"No, I don't think so."

"All right, well perhaps the next time you visit my dorm room in the middle of the night, I won't be inclined to answer." Peter cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Ah, but you forget one minor detail."

"And what is that?"

"You were the one that called me." Alexa blushed.

...

"You know, I'm thinking of going another career route," Peter said. He lay on his bed up-side-down, head hanging off the edge.

"Really, like what?" Edmund asked, peering up from his novel. Peter shifted into a sitting position on the bed, making the blood rush back down to the rest of his body. He blinked and shook his head for a second before replying.

"I applied for a teaching position in a local high school, Ashbridge Academy."

_August, 1944_

"Welcome to Ashbridge University. Here is your room key, your schedule, identification card, and here is the phone number within your room. You will be on the second floor with the rest of your Freshmen Class of women."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"And have you declared your major?" asked the desk clerk.

"Yes I have. I will be majoring in Psychology." The woman at the desk jotted the information down on her clipboard.

"All right, thank you. Have a good year, Miss Pevensie."

"Thank you."

"Hey, Su! There you are. Come on, let's find your room," said Alexa as she entered the lobby door.

"I'll meet up with you two later for lunch," Peter said, venturing toward his own dormitory.

"Sure, I'll just need a bit to unpack," said Susan.

"Of course. Meet you there," he tossed over his shoulder.

"I'm so glad you're here, Su. It'll be much less lonely with you here," said Alexa as they climbed the staircase.

"I am too. This year is going to be _fabulous_." Alexa had to pause at Susan's use of "fabulous." She sounded like half the air-brained bimbos that were her chosen friends in Finchley.

"_Concerning_," Alexa thought.


	5. August 15, 1945 — November, 1945

**Hello all! I'm back. I hope you all had a great Christmas, and a Happy New Year. Just a tip for this chapter, there will be much of Alexa's third person point of view here in some of the scenes, and Peter's as well. Some of the quotes between Peter and his class are credited to Witchy Pixie's science teacher.**

**There will be more of the rest of the Pevensie family in the next installment. **

**WARNING: Foul language.**

* * *

><p><em>~Hereafter~<em>

Chapter Five – August 15, 1945 — September, 1946

_August 15, 1945_

On the fifteenth of August, in 1945, the country of Japan surrendered and the war officially met its end. The Pevensies and the Williams' joined the gatherings held on the streets, celebrating their victory and peace. The soldiers had finally been allowed to come home to their families, and all of Great Britain rejoiced in the cobbled roads.

Peter surveyed this scene before him, and frowned despite himself. In resuming his sweeping gaze, he caught the eye of his father, who noticed Peter's displeasure.

"What's wrong Pete?" John asked.

"Nothing, it's just…our country is still so broken, even with our triumph. After this celebration, people will go back to their homes and reflect on the past few years of this mindless war and ask themselves: how will be rebuild and continue living?" Peter sighed. "I just have a hollow feeling, is all."

John regarded his son for a moment, then smiled.

"It will be hard. We're all weary…but it is a victory. Neither this country, nor Europe will be the same. But, we will rebuild."

* * *

><p><em>Early October, 1945<em>

"All right, please take your seats. It's eight o'clock, and I have to start class," Peter announced to his students. They ceased their chatter and socializing with their classmates, and sat at their assigned seats. Peter took roll, checking off his list of grade nine students.

"Now, we have to practice for a drill which will take place in case a large enough storm occurs that we have to vacate the vicinity. If there ever is one, we will do the drill my way, and then since we lived, we will apologize to the authorities." Quiet laughter filled the room, and Peter smiled. Then, he continued.

"Now, line up against the wall here. I don't care in what order. We'll go through the back door and down the stairs." Peter led them as he said, and into the school's parking lot.

"What if a crazy man ever came into the building?" Peter heard a young girl asked her friend.

"Is there a drill for that?" said the other.

"No, but there probably should be. What would _I_ do if a random stranger came into our class room with a gun?" Peter asked with a grin.

"Uh, fight the man?"

"Beat him up and take his gun?"

"Give him a detention and send him to the dean for disrupting class?" offered a boy, George Henry, whom Peter usually reprimanded for his smart comments. But at this, even Peter had to laugh.

"I can catch a bullet with my teeth!" Peter turned to Harriet, the girl who had just spoken.

"Ah, but can you throw it back?" Peter asked. She appeared deep in thought for a moment, before the answered.

"Touché." He nodded, and couldn't restrain a smirk.

"This is our stop, ladies and gentlemen," he announced as they climbed down a short set of stairs to reach their destination. It was an alley between two of the high school's buildings, and they stood in an area that was protected by a cement staircase that rose and crossed left, into the wall behind them. There was an entrance to the building closest to them, next to the wall. Here they would be mostly protected if they crouched nearest to the corner between the wall and the stairs.

"What time is class over?" asked George.

"Well, it ends at twelve. The sun is almost directly in the middle of the sky, so I'd say very soon. We should head back to the classroom," said Peter as he squinted at the sun.

It was a beautiful, sunny day—a change of pace from the cloudy and dreary week Ashbridge had been experiencing.

"_It's a shame we can't have class out here…_" he thought. He paused in his thought process.

"Wait…what if we could?" he said aloud.

"What if we could what, Mr. Pevensie?" said Herold, another one of Peter's students.

"I was just thinking…if you all don't give me any trouble, perhaps we could have class outside one day. Would you all enjoy that, or no?" At the many enthusiastic affirmative answers, Peter calmed them as he smiled.

"All right, all right. I'll talk to administration."

* * *

><p><em>October 25, 1945<em>

Peter woke with a start as a horrified shriek resounded throughout the lot of dormitories.

"What the fuck was that?" he heard Richard slur drowsily from the other room.

"Oh no," Peter mumbled, dragging a hand down his tired face.

"_What is it _this_ time_," he thought.

* * *

><p>"LET ME GO!"<p>

"Now just calm down, there's a better way to handle this."

"**_Let me go!_** I'll smother her with her own pillow. I'll rip out all those little brunette curls out of her _head!_"

"Relax, Princess. I won't tell anyone of your little…dilemma."

"…"

"Alexa…calm—"

"**_Don't_**…tell me to calm down. I'm _not_ going to _calm down_. Do you not see what the bloody whore did?"

"_Don't call me a whore, bitch!_"

"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!" Diane and Alexa looked at each other with wide eyes, then looked to the other girl.

"I've _had it with you two!_ _You!_" Linda pointed at Diane. "What the bloody hell is your problem? You don't just dump honey all over people's furniture and floor and body, that's just…juvenile."

Alexa huffed as she began prying the sticky substance out of her hair.

"And you!" Linda rounded on the woman, who blinked in surprise.

"You're a good person, but—and I say this with love—you have a pole stuck up your arse."

Alexa gaped in shock. She had never known Linda to raise her voice or curse once in the time they were roomed together. And not to be so brutally honest.

"Hey, the princess started it!" Diane accused.

"I did _not!_" Alexa refuted.

"This whole thing started because you're dainty, little prim and proper arse can't stand to be upstaged," Diane spat. Alexa guffawed at the insults.

"Well then, what does that make you? A boorish, uncultured, unrefined, sleazy drunkard, who goes after anything with a _pulse_."

"Now _that_ is _enough_."

Linda spoke so firmly that the other two became silent.

"Alexa, just get cleaned up. When you're done, I'll help you here," she finished. Alexa sighed, then nodded, squared her shoulders and left for the shower. Once the door shut, Diane at Linda gazed at one another in silence: Linda's probing, Diane's nonchalant.

"Are you satisfied?" Linda asked at last. Diane shrugged, her arms crossed. "I'm sure you're proud of yourself."

"You can think what you want about me. It won't change anything."

Diane grabbed a purse with her things, and exited the dorm room.

* * *

><p>"It was terrible," said Alexa. She laid her head on the table, over her crossed arms. Susan patted her back soothingly.<p>

"I'm sorry…did you manage to get it off all of your things?" Peter asked.

"Mostly…I was sort of fine afterward with the clothing and bed, and even the floor. Those things can be washed. What really made me angry were my books on my desk. Some were for school research…others were favorites of mine. I managed to clean them off but their pages are basically ruined."

"I'm sorry, dear…at least your hair is as soft as butter," said Susan. She plucked a strand of hair out of Alexa's face. The older girl gave Susan a sideways glance.

The three sat at an outside picnic table, near the classroom buildings. Susan vented about the mouse of a girl that she was roomed with for about half an hour (complaining how the girl was such a bore to talk to) before Peter directed the conversation elsewhere.

"Alexa, have you registered for the senior gala yet?" Peter asked.

"Oh, no. I completely forgot," she admitted. "I've been so busy with preparing end of term papers that I forgot."

"End of term isn't until December," Peter commented with a grin.

"Well, I know. But I'm preparing early. Last year I was working until the wee hours of the morning scrambling to get them done for my professors. None of them tolerate tardiness, and I was nearly late."

"She's right Peter, it's better to get them done early," said Susan.

"Su, you're even worse than her. You had yours done a week after being notified of the assignment, which was a week ago," said Peter.

"Not _that_ much worse," Susan mumbled.

"In any case, I'll just register after dinner. Why are they doing this in the middle of the year instead of just waiting until graduation? Where is the party anyway?" Alexa asked.

"It's at Richard's house, and he offered to host it. Administration didn't plan it or anything," said Peter.

"Really? Hmm, I've never been to his home," Alexa mused.

"It's very nice. His family is wealthy, despite the effects of the war. Nothing compared to the Cair, but it has its embellishments," he replied with a grin. Susan shifted uncomfortably.

"I do miss the Cair. It was the perfect place to live," Alexa commented. "Overlooking the Eastern Sea…a forest behind…"

"The splendid gatherings we held in the grand hall, you remember? The food, the music…" Peter asked. Alexa smiled fondly.

"The dancing," she finished. "It was always so much fun. How many celebrations and festivities did we plan, Su? I've lost count." Susan paused from examining her nails. She started at the two of them and frowned.

"I do wish you would stop talking of those trivial fantasies. It's unbecoming of grown adults."

With a short huff, she left the table, and made her way to her next class. Peter and Alexa were left taken aback by Susan's actions, staring after her with dual expressions of bewilderment.

* * *

><p><em>November, 1945<em>

The Senior Gathering, as it was labeled on the registrar, was a formal gathering in the Kingsley residence. Peter, Alexa, Linda, and a few of Peter's friends; Thomas Kincaid, James Morgan, Wallace McGovern, Eugene Smith (nicknamed "Smithy") and Charles Hardy, rode together in a rented automobile big enough to hold them all (supplied by Richard Kingsley, of course), and were received at the door by an elderly gentleman. In his hands, he held a list on a board, and a pencil for marking off their names as they entered. Many of their class were already there, eating, laughing, and talking by the rather large backyard through double doors.

James, Thomas, and Wallace took off for the drinks, leaving the two women, Peter, and his friends, Charles and Smithy.

"Ah, finally. Damn it man, you took forever. What happened, had to finish doing your hair? Borrowing Alexa's pin curlers are you?" Richard's voice sounded behind them. Peter rolled his eyes as he grinned, even as he was clapped on the back by his friend.

"I see Smithy, good 'ole Smithy. And Charlie, you bastard, I never thought our mates would reign your arse in here," he said, as he graced them with the same greeting. Linda and Alexa glanced at each other, and both rolled their eyes.

"Always a pleasure to see the wolf in his den," Charles remarked.

"More like the caveman in his cave," said Smithy.

"Oh, come off it, you bloody bastards are just jealous an' aching for some booze."

"Hey Rich, tone it down would you? There are ladies present," said Peter, though his expression was one of amusement. Richard turned his gaze and smiled.

"Right you are, Pete, right you are. I apologize, ladies. A man's tongue slips when among his own kind," he said, and reached for Alexa's hand. "Alexa, always a pleasure to see you. That's a nice little number you have on, 'dressed to kill' I believe is the phrase that comes to mind."

He raised her hand above her head and twirled her, viewing the slim, black dress she wore that tapered out at the waist and reached just below the knee. She shook her head and couldn't help a giggle as he set down her hand at his notice of Peter's pointed glare.

"Hmm, Pete better hold on tight, he's got a woman with a purpose," Richard said quickly before greeting Linda (before Peter could get a word in edgewise).

"Linda, what a beauty. You should wear your hair down more often, curls suit you," he said with a grin. Linda blushed and thanked him for the compliment, awkwardly toying with a strand of her auburn hair.

"Well, the party is getting started now that you all are here. The music is on! Feel free to dance, eat, have a drink. My parents are in Scotland for the weekend, so there are no restrictions other than don't destroy my house. Linda, love, would you care for a dance?" said Richard.

"Oh…o-of course," Linda stammered.

"Smithy and I are going to get a drink, you want one, Peter?" Charles asked.

"Yeah, Charlie. Thanks. Alexa, you want something?" Peter said.

"No thank you, I'm fine," she replied with a smile.

"Aw, come on. You have to have at least one. It won't kill ya," said Smithy.

"I'd…rather not."

"You sure? Well, it's fine. I know you don't really like it," said Peter. She had more of a taste for wine than anything with hard liquor. Alexa glanced from him to Charlie, then to Smithy.

"Oh fine. Something not too strong, though," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"You don't have to. I can get you a soda."

"No, it's fine."

"All right. Well, I'm going to go with them, but I'll be right back," said Peter.

"Okay," said Alexa. He kissed her on the cheek before walking with his two friends. Alexa leaned against the wall in the living room, where the dance floor was arranged, and watched Linda dance with Richard. She was only mildly concerned, no matter Richard's reputation. Having known the man for a few years now from his friendship with Peter, associating with him plenty of times a day, she knew that his reputation was something of an exaggeration. Yes, he was tremendously flirtatious and exceedingly outspoken, but at least he knew what lines he could cross.

The song quickly came to an end, and she watched Richard walk to the refreshments table and grab two drinks. There he was stopped by Diane, who began speaking with him in hushed tones. Alexa's curiosity was piqued. She strained to hear the conversation, but to no avail. They were in a fairly intimate position, however. Heads bowed closely to one another while talking. It ended soon, only a minute, perhaps, before Richard made his way back to Linda, drinks in hand.

"Here you go, madam." Alexa turned at the sound of Peter's voice. He smiled and offered her a cup.

"I just saw Richard talking to Diane," said Alexa.

"…And?" Peter asked.

"And? I don't know. It seemed off, somehow. The way they were talking, all hush-hush."

"I'm sure it was nothing." Alexa mulled over it for a moment, then shrugged. Maybe it was just nothing. She took a sip of her drink. It was bitter, but had a tang that she decided she liked.

"What is this, anyway?" she asked.

A couple hours of dancing, eating, and drinking later, Alexa had no idea where Peter or Linda was. She found herself at a table of people from her class, most of whom she recognized, but at the time for the life of her couldn't remember their names. They were playing poker.

"Match," she said, and put down five blue chips. It wasn't as clear as it could have been, but after four cups of whatever it was that Richard was serving, she felt pretty damn good.

"You've got that much money on you?" said the girl acting as the dealer, Margaret, Alexa thought her name was.

"We'll just have to see, won't we?

"I'll match that." Alexa turned to see Diane sitting across from her.

"All right," said Margaret.

"I fold," said one of the five at the table.

"I do too," said another. Soon, people began to drop like flies from the game. Alexa refused to lose. Much of her money was in that pile. In the back of her mind, hazy as the thought process was, she knew Peter would kill her for even wasting her time gambling in the first place.

"All right, Princess. It's down to you and me," said Diane. Margaret and all the other players had long since left the game. It was really only Alexa and Diane at the table.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Alexa asked with a grimace. The other woman glanced somewhere behind her, toward a group of men and women passed out on Richard's couches.

"My date couldn't keep up."

"Which one of the many you sank your claws into?"

"Eh, he stood me up."

Alexa paused.

"The one you came in with?" she asked.

"Yeah, bloody ingrate," Diane sneered, and took a long swig out of a nearby wine bottle. When she was finished, she set it down on the stool beside their playing table.

"Who was it?"

"None 'f ya damn business," Diane slurred.

"…Sorry," Alexa mumbled after a moment.

"What?"

"…I'm sorry that happened."

Diane regarded Alexa for a while, then drank another sip from the bottle. She then offered it to Alexa, who wordlessly took it and also drank from it.

"Was it Richard?" she asked. Diane sniggered.

"Fuck, no! Are you kidding?" Alexa flushed in embarrassment.

"Well, why not? You two were acting pretty chummy earlier." Diane paused, and then sighed, peering at the black, glass bottle in her hand.

"He's my brother."

Alexa took a minute to process this, all the while gaping in incredulity. Eventually, she composed herself enough to speak.

"You never did tell me your last name…that's so odd that I never thought to ask."

"What of it? Do I look too trash to belong here, is that it?"

"Well…if he's your brother now that would make sense." Diane glared.

"We don't really speak to one another," she said.

"Why is that?" Diane shrugged.

"He's only my half-brother."

"How does that work?" asked Alexa.

"Same father, different mothers. Mine was first."

"What happened to her?" Alexa was half-expecting a scandal—a man's affair with another woman, leading to Richard and his father marrying his mistress after his former wife ended the marriage. It would make sense.

"She died."

"…Oh. I'm…sorry."

"Don't. I was young, I don't remember her much. Father remarried the next year."

"And Richard?"

"Born the next year."

"So you're older than him."

"By a few years."

"And you're only a senior in university?"

"I had a late start."

"Ah."

"Well, what's with you? Got any skeletons in your closet?" Diane said with a giggle. "A graveyard maybe?" She chuckled some more. Alexa shook her head and grinned.

"Not really."

"Oh come on. I spilled _my_ guts. What have you got to hide, princess?"

"Nothing. I was raised in a respectable home. My father went to war. I was sent out to the country during the raids. I came back."

"…And your father?" Diane asked. Alexa hesitated.

"Hasn't come back yet," she replied.

"How'd you meet the blonde?"

"What?"

"The one who's always with Richard...I can't right remember his name now."

"Oh, Peter? Why do you want to know?"

Diane smirked.

"Curiosity. You two...you're different than other couples. Like you've been comfortable with each other. For years."

Alexa grinned and shook her head once again. The buzz from the wine was losing its edge, but she was still very much aled up, if coherent enough to carry conversation. Perhaps if she wasn't, she wouldn't be telling this woman anything remotely this personal.

"I met him and his family when I was sent to the countryside. We were put together in the same house."

"Really? How long were you there for?"

"A couple years. The best of my life."

"So…that's it? A couple years in the country? You seem like the type to have some big secret. Whatever it is has that pole stuck up your arse."

Alexa tried in vain to hold in her mirth as Diane laughed.

"Am I really that uptight?" Alexa asked.

"Ramrod straight," Diane said with a lazy mock salute. "But I would like you better if you were always like this."

"Yeah…I suppose."

But for so long it had been her job to be collected, proper in the face of nobility and the public eye. Alexa supposed she wasn't a queen anymore.

Diane scooted over and sat next to her.

"Let your hair down, princess. Maybe I'll promote you to pauper if you manage to pull it off," Diane said, shoving Alexa lightly.

"Only if I can call you Dirty Diane."


	6. November, 1945 — June, 1946

***Sigh* I'm terribly sorry. The muse had disappeared for a while, but I've resurrected it. I got discouraged by the lack of feedback, combined with the amount of work for other things…anyway. Here's chapter six for you all. Feel free to comment on your likes, dislikes, etc.**

**I retrieved some information on Voltaire, and the 1934 recording of "Call of the Jitterbug" by Cab Calloway, made famous by the film _Cab Calloway's Jitterbug Party_. Also, some of the quotes said by Peter with his English class were made by my friend's crazy-awesome science teacher. An...unlikely combonation within one chapter, now that I think about it. All are not mine, quite obviously. Le sigh.**

* * *

><p><em>~Hereafter~<em>

Chapter Six – November, 1945 — June, 1946

"You should be ashamed of yourself."

"For the tenth time, I'm _sorry_."

"I'm lucky that Linda found Diane and me. I would have been mortified if we had woken up this morning, still at Richard's house."

"What were you doing by yourself, anyway? You could have gotten hurt."

"Even if I had, _you_ certainly wouldn't have known."

"…All right, I deserve that."

"Damn right. Where were you, exactly?"

"Um…"

"Peter…" He blushed in embarrassment, putting a hand to his aching head. Both of them were suffering from the night before, and laid on the couch in Alexa's dorm. The two, along with Diane and Linda, had wandered there after being dumped in front of the building, as Richard wouldn't allow Peter into their dorm smelling so strongly of alcohol. Peter and Alexa still hadn't changed their clothes, as they couldn't get up without the world swimming.

Diane had made it to her room, locking the door behind her, while Linda (responsibly not intoxicated) had gone to sleep peacefully that night.

The blinds were closed tightly, leaving them in semi-darkness, and protecting them from the bright, noon sun.

"Oh, Alexa. You really don't want to know." They turned from their position at the couch to see Linda standing in the doorway. In her hands, she carried a grocery bag.

"What happened?" Alexa pressed. Peter's eyes snapped open wide.

"No, Linda. _Please_."

"_I beg of you…_" he thought. Setting her load down on the kitchen counter, Linda gave him a sideways glance, an amused grin tugging at her lips. She took out a white box, small, that fit in the palm of her hand, and spoke casually as she peeled the top off.

"I saw him across the room, along with Charlie, Thomas, and…I think it was James. They stood—"

"Linda, no—" Peter protested. But the girl simply smiled as she took out three tea bags from the box, and carried on as if he hadn't spoken.

"Upon the coffee table in Richard's living room. They turned on a record of 'Call of the Jitterbug,' and started to…well, do the _Jitterbug_." Peter slid his face into his hands as she went into further detail of the scene, dissolving Alexa into hysterics with every line. Linda narrated the story, even as she brewed the tea, sparing no detail.

"Oh…_good…Lord_," Alexa managed to get out between fits of giggles as her friend continued on.

"Oh, Alexa, it was truly marvelously embarrassing. By half way through the song, their waistcoats had been flung, ties loosened, shoes definitely kicked off—basically left in their pants and undershirts, which were partially unbuttoned, mind you. They were caught up in the swing, dancing on the tabletop. All the while they were singing with the record, again, mind you, off tune and off beat:

'_If you'd like to be a jitter bug,_

_First thing you must do is get a jug,_

_Put whiskey, wine and gin within,_

_And shake it all up and then begin._'"

"Really, all those lyrics?" asked Alexa.

"Oh yes, all that and the rest," Linda confirmed.

"Are you done?" Peter asked in a deadpan. Alexa noted, with no small amount of amusement, that the poor man was red from his neck to his ears and cheeks, contrasting starkly with the blonde of his hair.

"Hmhm, yes. Although…" Linda trailed, and gave Alexa a cup of tea.

"What else could you _possibly_ say?" he asked in exasperation, leaning back heavily into the couch. Alexa giggled, sipping her hot drink carefully.

"Oh, nothing. Just that once you had come down from the table, you mistook Margaret for Alexa." Said girl nearly choked on the liquid running down her throat, covering her mouth quickly.

Linda slid a cup to Peter, who took it, gratefully. His head felt like it was about to burst.

"_What?_" both Peter and Alexa asked, simultaneously.

"That much, I don't remember. Even if everything else is fuzzy," said Peter.

"What did he do?" Alexa asked.

"Was I really that drunk?" he asked, almost to himself.

"_What did he do?_" Alexa persisted.

"Nothing really. He only bear-hugged her from behind, slurring your name. Margaret nearly punched him, but settled for pushing him onto the living room sofa. That is where his drunken self stayed for the duration of the night, until Richard drove all of us home." Even with Linda's explanation, Alexa narrowed her eyes at Peter, who raised his hands in a placating manner from his side of the couch.

"Obviously, I can't be blamed for my actions," said Peter.

"'_Obviously_,'" Alexa confirmed. "So obviously, I can't be held accountable for gambling with your money."

Peter paused.

Alexa reached into the front of her dress, and pulled out his now empty wallet.

His eyes widened.

She dropped it onto his lap.

* * *

><p><em>January, 1946<em>

Absently, he watched the snow fall to the white expanse below, becoming part of the smooth blanket covering the ground, houses, trees—anything with a surface. He observed from the wooden porch, sitting on the steps. The powdery flecks felt soft in his palm, and crunched as he fisted his hand. It fell between his gloved fingers, making them slightly damp.

He still hated it.

Well, perhaps _hate_ wasn't the correct word. More…he _disliked_ it. Immensely.

He breathed in the clean, January air, and let it out slowly. Another year had come and gone, yet things had stayed the same.

"_Maybe that's a lie. Things have changed_," he thought. But were those changes for the better? He couldn't exactly say. Things had gotten _quiet_. Peter had left. Susan had left. He was happy for them, had seen them off with a smile and best wishes. Lucy had given him comfort, and he had received it with thanks, knowing that in a short time he would also leave.

But it was the quiet that had been left in their absence that really irked him.

Sure, Lucy was good company, but…

"What are you doing out here by yourself?" He peered up at his sister, and gave a small smile.

"Just thinking." She sat down next to him on the steps.

"A dangerous prospect." He would ignore that.

"I'm sure."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing in particular." She shoved him lightly. He smiled truly, knowing he had already been caught at his poor attempt at lying.

"I guess I'm just…bored," he said at last.

"Bored? You want to play a game?" she offered.

"No. That's not what I meant…I'm more…bored with life."

"With life? Well, yes, I could understand that." Edmund looked to Lucy, puzzled.

"Really now?"

"Of course, Ed," she replied, her eyes growing downcast. Again, he smiled, despite himself.

"So it's not just me. Do you think…things have changed for the better?" he asked.

"What things?"

"Coming back to Finchley, going back to school…"

"Our siblings leaving?" she finished.

"…Yeah," he nodded.

"Well, yes. It's lonely, but this isn't forever. We will be all together eventually. Not as we once were, obviously. There will be changes, but…they'll be good," she finished with a wistful smile, kicking the snow piled under her feet.

"Always so hopeful," he said.

"What are we without hope or faith, Ed?" she asked. He thought a moment, then nodded in understanding.

"_Alone_," he thought.

Their conversation stayed with Edmund, even as they returned to school after the holiday season. The day went on without much incident. Teachers welcomed their students with textbook work and piles of homework as gifts. It was a long day, but he was happy to be back at school, reunited with his few friends. They stayed around for a while after school, talking and catching up on holiday events.

But eventually, Edmund left them to travel to the library, as he had done almost every weekday since his eighth year. He had homework to finish, after all. This would be his last year, and he wanted to finish strong before final exams.

He entered the wide double doors of the library building, and took his usual seat at the square tables, close to the several shelves of books. He noted that the position of the shelves had been altered slightly; now he was closer to the fiction. But as he took his seat, he also noted the sounds of an eraser scrubbing at a page.

"Oh…hmm, that's not right." He smiled, despite himself, and took out his books. There were some things that would never change.

He set his books down with just enough noise to get his company's attention. Only slightly startled, the girl looked up from her array of books and paper.

"Oh, hello, Edmund! How was your holiday?" she asked. He almost laughed at her expression, as she was caught off guard. Tendrils of light brown hair escaped the bun they had been pinned in, some falling around the silver frame of her glasses.

"Very good, thank you," he replied.

"Did your siblings return from university?"

"Yes, they did."

"What did you all do?"

"Oh, um…I don't know. We talked."

"That's it?"

"Well, yeah."

"What else did you do? I know when my whole family comes over for Christmas, we read the old stories my grandfather used to tell my sister and I when we were little. This past year we ate a lot of food…well, I ate a bit more than I should have. And we went ice skating." Edmund allowed himself to smile at the girl's bubbly persona. She was light, refreshing.

"All right, well, we told stories too. We like to go around telling ones that we've made up. My brother, Peter, he's the best at it. He's a writer, so I guess he should be. My dad is okay at it, so is Mum. Susan usually has some good ideas, while Lucy makes up the most nonsensical things…but they always make us laugh," said Edmund. Now that he thought of it, their stories were his favorite part of Christmas, rather than opening gifts. That was always fun, of course. But hearing his brother's narratives, so detailed and creative, were the best.

"What about you?" Her question brought him out of his reverie.

"What?"

"What about you?" she repeated. "Do you tell stories?" He felt his cheeks warm a bit at being caught off guard, but he shrugged.

"I'm all right, I guess. Really, my brother tells the greatest."

"I would like to hear some of yours," she said.

"Hmm, I don't know…"

"It doesn't have to be now. I know you're busy with schoolwork."

"It's just…here is too…public." The stories he told were somewhat personal to him, only shared in the comfort of his family's presence. But…perhaps he could tell her _one_.

"Oh, would you rather we go to the park?" she asked.

"The park?"

"There is one a few blocks from here. Are you okay with walking?"

"Sure, I could take a cab home."

"All right, then let's go."

"Now?"

"Why, yes. Let's go! Grab your things."

"Oh…um…all right."

"This park is small, but it's cozy. I think you would like it." She held her books as she walked to the door, saying things over her shoulder. He trailed after her, a few paces behind, hiding a small smile.

"I'm sure, Mina."

* * *

><p><em>March, 1946<em>

Peter stared out the window of his classroom, sitting comfortably in his desk chair. His students were busy at work, quiet for once. He was grateful. If only for a moment, he would have relative peace from incessant questions, gum chewers, obnoxious giggling, and squeaking chairs. The sunshine that shone through the open window was welcomed; for the past week, there had been non-stop rain from morning till dusk.

"Mr. Pevensie." He looked up, his reverie broken.

"Yes, Anna?" The girl paused, fiddling with her fingers.

"Well…did you ever talk to administration about letting us have class outside?" she asked.

Peter smiled.

"Where are we going?" asked George. Peter's smile broadened as they walked along the sidewalk.

"To a park close to the Ashbridge dormitories," he replied. "Keep close to me. If you get lost, I will be forced to hunt you down with my father's shot gun."

"Hey, you wouldn't do that, would you?" Anna questioned. Peter simply smirked. Her eyes widened comically.

"Aren't you a college student?" asked Harriet.

"Yes, I am."

"So, don't you live in those dorms?"

"Yes, I do."

"Do you have friends there?"

"No, I'm your dork teacher with no friends."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pevensie."

"…I was kidding, Harriet."

"Oh…" He refrained from shaking his head.

"We're going to the park near my home, so that we can both admire nature, and practice writing what you see, feel, hear, and smell. The four senses ladies and gentlemen."

"What about taste?" asked George. Peter raised a brow.

"...I supposed you'll be eating dead leaves and other such rubbish then?" The rest of his students started to laugh, save for the boy.

"But, I have some rules if we are to go on this trip. One, don't be stupid. Stupid people don't last long when following me. If we hike around the forest area, because there is one, I may show you some nettles and tell you that the way to identify them is to touch them to your nose. I love the reaction. People act like they're been electrocuted. I do this to the Fresh Air Kids."

"Who are they?" asked Daniel, a blonde young lad with wide glasses, which took up about half of his face in an amusing fashion.

"City kids who have never seen sky except between buildings, like most of you," Peter replied dryly.

"What if there are bears?" Peter glanced at the child, restraining a laugh at how nervous he truly looked. It was then that he noticed Anna, holding up her hands over her head in an imitation of moose antlers. She warded off Harriet, who role played as a "bear."

"You could be like Anna. The bear might think you're a small moose, and just kill you anyway. They will not kill you, but they will play with you until you are dead and gnaw on your head some," Peter commented, to the entertainment of his class. She stopped, however, blushing profusely.

"So…there are bears?" Daniel asked in a measure of assuring himself, to which Peter nearly smacked himself in the face. But, despite himself, he kept a gravely solemn expression.

"…Yes."

* * *

><p><em>June, 1946<em>

He waved to his pupils as they exited his classroom for the last time. All the while they called back their goodbyes to him, wishing him well. He returned them whole-heartedly, and he truly did wish them the best...well, almost all of them. Some he most probably wouldn't miss.

After the summer's end, they would return to school and continue into their last four-year interval, but he wouldn't be here to greet the new students. No, he had opted out of teaching after only a year. He had realized that, while it had been fun, he was much better meant for sticking closer to the writing industry.

Alexa had asked him as much later that day, as they helped her pack her things from the dorm. After another week, the two would be graduating Ashbride University. Then, Peter, Susan, and Alexa would take the short train ride home, to Finchley.

"I don't understand, I thought you loved teaching," said Alexa. She had been hearing for months about how exuberating the experience was for him, how much joy he received when he could tell that the children were learning, and appreciated what was taught. But then again, she had remembered his frustration: the workload added along with school, the long nights of lesson preparations, and the—for lack of a better term—"problem" children.

"Well, it was fun, I'll admit. But by the end, I knew that it wasn't something I could see myself doing for the rest of my life. Maybe when I retire, I'll become a schoolteacher. For now, however, I want to pursue a career in what I've studied for. Which is why I've applied to numerous publishing houses within England, preferably London, Ashbride, or Finchley."

Alexa regarded him silently, pausing in her task of putting away numerous books and knickknacks. In his eyes, she saw how resolute he had become in his decision. And she smiled, because he had finally found his calling after years of indecision.

"So, when is the new book coming out, and when will you finally let me read it?" He smirked, and shook his head.

"Not anytime soon, but if I were you, I would consider applying to a local school," Peter remarked.

"What? _Me?_ A _schoolteacher_, that's for…" She trailed as he gave her a pointed look.

"For what?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Err…never mind."

The seven days went by like a blur. Between packing their numerous belongings, attending their graduation ceremony, and the numerous after-parties held in their class' honor (most of which were held in Richard Kingsley's home), they had almost missed their train. It was a bittersweet goodbye to their short-lived home, at least for the eldest of the once-Kings and Queens of Old. Alexa had exchanged addresses with her two roommates, and unlikely friends, as had Peter, before they shipped off with Susan in tow.

Edmund and Lucy were there at the station to greet them, along with their parents, and Alexa's mother had come as well. After exchanging greetings with their parents, the eldest Pevensie siblings were attacked by their youngest, while Edmund approached at a slower, steadier pace. Nonetheless, his smile didn't go unnoticed, nor did the slight "spring" in his step.

"How was the ride," he asked as he greeted the three.

"Uneventful," Alexa replied.

"You were sleeping the entire time," Peter remarked.

"You tried to read me Keats."

"Oh, he's a classic," said Susan.

"_Thank you_, Su," Peter said with a smile. "That's what _I_ was trying to tell her." Alexa wrinkled her nose.

"I'd much rather read a political debate, or an excerpt from Voltaire's works," she said.

"I agree with you there," said Edmund.

"_Thank you_, Ed." Alexa imitated Peter teasingly.

"Didn't Voltaire also write poetry?" Lucy questioned. Peter brought his little sister close, hugging her dramatically in his thanks.

"Why, _yes_. He absolutely did. And _this_ is why you're my favorite."

"All right," a new voice broke in. "It's getting hard to make this surprise special when you lot keep babbling on about dead philosophers."

The five turned to look behind them, and the Pevensie children smiled at the sight of their cousin.

"There you are, Eustace," said Lucy. "I thought we lost you after entering the building."

"Trying to get rid of me, eh?" he teased, ruffling her hair, to which she defended herself against the offending hands.

"No such thing, but we thought you were lost amongst the masses," she replied with a roll of her eyes. Despite herself, she smiled as Eustace greeted Peter and Susan.

"Wow, I haven't seen you in a few years, but it feels like more," Peter admitted.

"_Not such a brat anymore, eh?_" he mused. "_Even his eyes are calmer than what I remember._"

"It would, but I've been living at your house for the past few days. I'll be here for the summer," said Eustace.

"I look forward to it."

"As do I," said Susan. "But Jill didn't accompany you?" At this, Eustace's eyes grew somewhat downcast, but he picked them back up quickly to meet his cousin's eyes.

"No, her mother has the flu. So, she opted to stay with her and help take care of her."

"Oh, well that's too bad. I would have liked to see her."

"Her poor mother," Alexa commented. Eustace seemed to see the girl for the first time, and nodded his head in apology.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do forgive me, I'm Eustace Scrubb, their cousin," he greeted, holding out a hand. Alexa accepted it with a smile.

"It's quite all right. I'm Alexa Williams, family friend."

"Wait…that means that you also ruled Narnia, well, during the Golden Age when you five reigned," he said, looking from Alexa, to Peter, to Lucy and Edmund for confirmation. Susan started to fidget uncomfortably, not meeting her cousin's gaze.

"You didn't tell him?" Alexa asked Edmund and Lucy.

"It…slipped my mind. It's kind of common knowledge," said Edmund as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"As did I. I forgot that he's never met you," said Lucy.

"Well, then yes I was. For that time we had," Alexa confessed. Eustace nodded.

"Ed and Lu have told me a few stories, but I'm sure you three have more…" He paused when Susan walked away from the group to follow her parents and Alexa's mother, who had gone in search for their luggage.

"What's wrong with her?" Eustace asked. Peter and Alexa shared a glance, before Peter spoke.

"Susan's changed."


	7. June 17, 1946 — June 20, 1964

**Holy crap, I'm actually back. I apologize profusely, but I think I know why the muse died this time. With these chapters, there is no solid plot besides a random string of oneshots connected to a timeline. So, from here on out I'm going to attempt to remedy this. **

**Also, I think the timing pace of these chapters are going a bit too fast for a good flow of reading. Feel free to comment if you agree or disagree.**

* * *

><p><em>~Hereafter~<em>

Chapter Seven – June 17, 1946 — June 20, 1946

_Monday, June 17, 1946_

"I can't believe...how'd she get like this?" Eustace asked, looking down at his glass of lemonade. Eustace and his cousins, save for Susan, sat on the front porch of the Pevensie home. They sipped on drinks Helen had prepared for them as the afternoon sun began to cool down. For the last half hour, they'd been simply catching up with each other's lives, discussing what they would do in the summer, where they would go.

Edmund had just graduated the week before, so they talked of where he would go, what he would major in. He had applied to various universities (mostly in London), and thus far, more than half of which had accepted him, including the college Peter had attended (and Susan was still attending), Ashbridge University. Edmund was holding out for two in particular, however: College of London and King's University. But conversation hit a sour note when Eustace—once again—inquired about Susan.

"It's beyond me, Eustace," said Peter. He shuffled his feet on the steps where he sat and sighed, before taking a sip from his glass. "Aslan knows _I_ can't talk to her anymore."

"_Peter_, what do you mean you can't talk to her? She's our sister," Lucy admonished.

"She's bitter, Lu. There's no reasoning with her," said Edmund. Lucy regarded him incredulously.

"So you would give up without even _trying?_" she asked.

"Of _course_ we've _tried_," Peter snapped. He stood from his position on the steps and met his sister's steely gaze.

"She refuses to listen. _I've_ tried talking to her, _Ed's_ tried three times. Once, Alexa attempted to, and Susan cut her off without a second thought."

"But she can't just turn her back on all we've done, all we've gone through together," Lucy protested, and she stood to face her brother. "_It's part of our lives_."

"We _know_ that, why are you reprimanding us like children?" Edmund asked. Lucy glanced at Edmund, then sighed.

"I know…I'm sorry." Her gaze fell to her feet as she shook her head.

"Look, Lu…you can try talking to her if you want. But I doubt she'll listen, even to you," said Edmund.

"She's always been stubborn," said Eustace. _That_ much about Susan he knew hadn't changed.

"All she cares about now are her petty friends and whatever they talk about," Peter remarked with a roll of his eyes.

"Guys, makeup, and gatherings," Lucy added dejectedly as she reclaimed her seat on the steps. "But at least she pays attention to her studies."

"Miraculously," Peter mumbled. Lucy narrowed her eyes at him.

"She's always cared about her grades, Pete," she reminded him.

"She's always cared about her family, Lu. Things change."

"She still cares about us, how can you say that?" At this, even Edmund rolled his eyes and stood with Peter.

"If she really cared, she would be with us and Eustace right now, instead of gossiping on the phone with one of those tittering bimbos she calls her friend," Edmund quipped. Lucy gaped at him for a moment, then pursed her lips. She glanced at Eustace, who had suddenly grown an avid interest in his shoes. Even now, she could hear Susan giggling loudly from within the house.

"I won't give up on her." She couldn't.

"Fine, then don't. But don't accuse us of not trying, or not caring," Edmund replied.

"Fine," she grounded out. Lucy didn't understand her brothers, how nonchalant they were being about something so important. Susan refused to believe _half of their lives_ even happened. It sounded like some kind of insanity, but Lucy knew it had to be more than that. Her sister wasn't insane. She'd merely chosen to forget.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Peter was the last one to wake up, at eleven in the morning. It was strange; he never usually slept so long into the day.<p>

_Alexa's the one who can sleep like the dead_, he thought with an internal smile as he brushed his teeth. He missed her, he realized. It had been a few days since they had gotten back to Finchley, but she hadn't called yet. Well, neither had he, but it had slipped his mind with Eustace's surprise visit.

Once Peter had finished brushing his teeth, he looked down at his crumpled shirt and undershorts. Peter didn't feel like bothering with his clothes, not even his hair yet. That could wait until he had eaten something, at least. So, he made his way down the stairs to where his family was already down in the living room. They were chatting amiably while Helen and Susan were preparing lunch in the kitchen. And when he reached the floor, Edmund spotted him first.

"Welcome, Sleepy. Alexa's coming over in a few minutes, so you'd better change," he said with a smirk. Peter's eyes widened, and he looked down at his disheveled self once again.

"Why didn't any of you wake me up if you knew she was coming?" he asked as he frantically ran his hands through his tangled hair, which stood up in all directions.

"Sorry, she called just a little while ago. We were going to send up Lucy…" said his father, who glanced over at his youngest. Lucy looked up at Peter innocently.

"I'm sorry, we were talking and I forgot…but you know you're wasting time while you could be getting dressed," she said, barely suppressing a grin. Peter could tell it was there, but he decided to ignore it for now, in place of sprinting back up the stairwell. He also chose to ignore the _obnoxious_ laughter coming from the living room.

No sooner had Peter gone inside his bedroom, that a knock was heard at the door. Edmund snickered, rolling his eyes at the irony. John shook his head, but he was smiling in amusement all the same.

"Lucy, can you answer the door, please?" he asked kindly. She nodded in reply, getting up with a smile.

"Coming!" Lucy had a certain bounce in her step as she went to open the door, and greeted her friend cheerfully.

"Good morning, I brought the book you wanted to borrow. Look," Alexa said, opening her shoulder bag to show Lucy the novel, slightly worn with a blue cover. Lucy's smile widened when she saw the title in silver lettering, and opened the door fully so that Alexa could walk inside.

"Oh, thank you! I'm so excited to read it. I had started the first chapter at your house the other day and I couldn't put it down." When Lucy had closed the door behind her, Alexa turned and held out the book for Lucy to take.

"I know. I don't know why you didn't ask to borrow it then."

"By the time I remembered, we had left and I'd forgotten to ask," Lucy said with a shrug as they entered the living room.

"Of course she forgot," Edmund remarked, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Now out of my way, I haven't seen her in a week." He playfully shoved Lucy to the side and hugged Alexa in greeting.

"Hey!" Lucy protested as she stumbled slightly, and reached up with her hand to flick him in the head. Alexa only laughed as he grunted in pain, but accepted his hug.

"How are you?" she asked neutrally, but amusement still laced her words.

"Peachy," he quipped dryly. Pulling away, he allowed Eustace into the haphazard circle they had formed in between the sofa and the coffee table.

"Hello, Eustace," Alexa greeted with a smile. Eustace barely managed to get out his amicable reply before Helen hurried out of the kitchen.

"Hello, Dear! Lunch is ready, so you all come into the dining room," said Helen, who smiled as broadly as Lucy (one tends to wonder where the girl gets it from). Then, she turned to address her husband, who sat in a recliner near the sofa, intently reading a book.

"_John_." He looked up, stirred a bit from being called out of his reverie.

"Oh, I do apologize. Hello, Alexa! When did you get here?" John asked. His expression was quite confused, and a tad comical. But Alexa restrained her amusement in favor of offering a friendly smile.

"Just a couple of minutes ago, Mr. Pevensie, it's quite all right," she replied. He smiled in return, and slowly stood to stretch.

"Oh, my back is aching from sitting that chair. I think it's time for a new cushion," he said with a laugh.

"Oh, no, no," Helen called from the kitchen. "You just changed the cushion only a month ago."

"Ah, this is true. Oh, well." He winked at the four of them before heading to the dining room. "Come, children, foods on the table."

"Dad, we're not children anymore," Edmund objected with a roll of his eyes. Which was true, they really weren't, even by England's standards. Peter was already twenty-one; Alexa would be turning the same in a week, on the twenty-first; Susan was already nineteen; Edmund himself was a mere year under the legal drinking age: eighteen (he could have sighed in annoyance at this thought). Not even Lucy could have been considered a child at thirteen. A young teenager, yes.

"Where's Su?" Alexa asked.

_And Peter_, she thought.

"_I'm in here!_" They heard her muffled call from the kitchen. She came out holding a tray of chicken sandwiches. "Hello, Alexa, did you take a cab?"

"Yeah, I did. My mum is working, so she has the car," Alexa said with a shrug. When they had all sat down at the table, it was only then did Edmund remember who was still missing.

"Oi, _Peter!_ Get down here already, you don't need to blow dry your hair," Edmund teased, winking at Alexa from across the table. She laughed and shook her head.

"Oh, yeah, where is that man anyway? I've been here for ten minutes and he hasn't come down to say hello to me," Alexa remarked.

"He's shy," Ed quipped.

"Edmund…" Helen chided gently.

"_I'll be right there!_" they heard Peter call, probably from somewhere upstairs. "_Hold on—ACK._" They heard something tumble against the floor, then quick footsteps down the stairs. There was a heavy tumble about half way down, which made Alexa wince and bite her lip.

"Are you all right, Dear?" Helen asked.

"…_Fine, Mum. I'm coming down._" She shook her head.

A few seconds later, he entered the room panting a bit. But he smiled when he saw Alexa.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hey," she replied amiably, but paused when she noticed his button-down shirt. "Um…Peter, you missed a button or two." He looked down and realized (with a slight blush) that she was right, and fastened them quickly: one near the top and one in the middle.

"Well, sit down at the table, and let's eat," John said as he smiled.

They sat and ate and talked for about an hour until all were full, before finally leaving the table. Being that it was a sunny day without a cloud in the sky, Helen suggested the six of them walk to the park. It was close by, and only a few minutes' walk.

"I know where we should sit," said Edmund. "It's a cozy little spot underneath a big oak tree…somewhere over…here—" He had to let his words drop as he spotted a familiar brunette head turn to face him.

"Edmund, is that you?" Edmund was momentarily speechless, and stood stiffly while he tried to get his tongue to work.

_Wait, why am I getting so tense?_ he thought. _It's just…_

"Mina! Hi…um, what are you doing here?" Yes, very tactful. She looked at him quizzically.

"I was just unwinding with my own thoughts on this beautiful summer day. How about you? Is this your family?"

"Well, yes—"

"Hello! I'm Mina Lewis, so glad to meet you all." She stood and turned to Peter first, who wore a grin that Edmund would have to beat out of him later.

"You must be Peter, you're the tallest one and you're blonde. That's funny, you two don't really look anything alike." Peter raised a brow and glanced at Edmund, but his smile never wavered. He was more amused than peeved at her comments.

"Yeah, what a _shame_, we really don't. Pleasure to meet you," he said. She nodded in return before moving onto Alexa, who stood next to Peter on his right.

"You must be…Susan?" Alexa shook her head.

"No, that's Susan over there," she pointed to said girl, who gave a polite smile and a small wave. Mina waved back cheerfully before turning back to the young woman in front of her.

"I'm Alexa, good to meet y—"

"Oh, it's wonderful to meet you! Really, I mean it. I've been hearing stories for a couple years now, but I've never actually gotten to, until now, obviously."

"A couple of years?" Lucy asked.

"Oh yes," said Mina. "We met about…hmm, four years ago?"

"Yes, about four years," Edmund agreed. He was still tense, and felt awkward talking about this to his siblings and his cousin, who was just staring at the girl. Even now she was enveloping his sisters and Alexa into conversation, her mouth running a mile a minute. Edmund wonder how she even breathed in between sentences, the girl talked so fast.

"She seems nice," Peter commented quietly as Susan giggled at something Mina said. Edmund glanced at his brother with narrowed eyes.

"No, genuinely. She's…a very happy person, I'll give you that," Peter said wryly. Edmund chortled in response.

"It's so strange to see her here, I don't know why…but I'm glad she finally got to meet everyone. She had been asking me before school ended." It was Peter's turn to regard his brother.

"You never told me you met a girl," he said, a slow grin spreading across his face.

Edmund cleared his throat out of habit.

"Don't start with that. She's just a friend from school."

"Sure, of course."

"Oh, shut up you."

"I didn't say anything."

"You're smirk is irritating."

"I apologize." It was the least sincere apology Edmund had ever heard, but it couldn't be helped, he supposed.

"You know what's interesting?" Peter asked.

"What?"

"Her name."

"What about it?" Edmund peered at his brother suspiciously. What was he going on about?

"Oh, nothing," Peter said, taking on an expression of innocence. "Moira would be happy for you, I think."

With this, Peter left his brother—who was still very much gaping in shock—to join the larger conversation with Mina Lewis. Edmund didn't move from his spot for a moment, still digesting Peter's words.

_Moira…I had forgotten…that was so long ago, but…I'm not surprised that he remembered,_ he thought wistfully. He _had_ forgotten about the pretty dryad that had caught his attention during a patrol of the Lantern Waste…but that was another life.

"Hey, Ed, what's wrong?" Mina asked. He blinked and looked up at his friend. She was pretty too, he reflected. Brunette curls framed her lightly freckled face, while bright, green eyes peered at him under dark lashes and thin, silver glasses. Her lips were not too full, but they appeared so as she pouted at him.

Yes, she had a prettiness about her. Not a polite elegance, like Susan; or the reserved, yet charming features of Alexa. Nor was it exactly the pure vibrancy that so characterized Lucy, but something akin to it.

"Oh, nothing, I'm fine. What are we talking about?" His lips quirked up in what was almost a grin as he took a seat on the grass next to her.

"Oh, I was just telling the story of when we came here once and a bum almost stole my shoe right off my foot. But you chased him down the street and jumped on him! And you got my shoe back, for which I was very grateful. I couldn't go around walking with just one shoe, I mean, it just isn't proper!" His grin broadened fractionally at hearing the story, especially when she was so animatedly talking with her hands and the inflections in her voice.

_I'll think of a name for it_," he thought. "_I'm sure of it._

By the time the group had said goodbye to Mina, and had gotten back to the Pevensie house, it was nearly sundown. Alexa also said her goodbyes before hailing a cab home, leaving the rest to a quiet evening at home. After dinner, all were settled at the living room playing card games. In the middle of their poker game, however, John put down his hand for a moment and addressed his sons.

"I forgot to tell you both, that letters came for each of you. One for you, Ed, and two for Peter."

"Oh, well where are they?" asked Peter.

"Right there on the table, actually," said John, who motioned to the corner of the coffee table. There sat a few envelopes, some opened, some not. Edmund grabbed the whole pile and rifled through them until he found his name.

"Here," he said, and threw the rest to Peter, who barely caught them. He gave Edmund a sardonic look.

"Thanks," he replied dryly.

"Welcome." Edmund didn't bother to turn his head from opening his envelope as he spoke. He tore it open, and found a letter addressed to him.

Lucy watched him closely, noticing the way his expression changed as he read: from excitement…to hope…to excitement again, and by the end, he was grinning so broadly she thought his face might fall off.

"What does it say?" asked Helen.

"I've been accepted into King's University on scholarship."

Congratulations attacked Edmund from all sides, while two unopened letters slid to the floor, forgotten.

* * *

><p><em>June 19, 1946<em>

"Peter, phone for you!"

"Okay, Lu, I'm coming." Peter walked brusquely down the stairs and took the offered phone from Lucy.

"Hello?"

"_Hello, _dearest_._" Peter bit his lip to refrain from chuckling too loudly. He looked around and confirmed the house was relatively empty, save for Lucy and Eustace playing cards in the living room with the radio on. His father had returned to work that morning, while his mother was in town shopping, probably for groceries.

"Hmm, I don't know if I like that one, love." He didn't know where his other two siblings were, but if his parents were out it didn't really matter.

Peter heard her muffled giggling.

"_Oh, come on, that pet name was innocent enough._"

"It makes me feel over 50."

"_Technically, we are._"

"Neither in mind, nor body, however."

"_True enough._" He let out a true laugh.

"_What are you doing today?_" Alexa asked. Peter shifted his position to lean more comfortably against the wall by the kitchen counter, where the phone was connected by its cord.

"Well, since I don't have a job yet, I'm still working on sending out resumes…" he trailed as something began to stir in his memory, something he had forgotten…

"_You haven't gotten any letters back from companies?_" There it was.

"Wait, I think I might have…don't go anywhere." Peter put the phone down on the counter, and raced into the living room. Eustace looked up from his hand of cards at his older cousin, who stood paused by the couch.

"What's the matter?" he asked. Peter shook his head.

"Nothing, I'm just trying to find my envelopes from yesterday…" he replied, and his eyes wandered around the room until they zeroed in on his prize…which lay on the floor.

"_Aha_, there it is," Peter picked them up and walked quickly back the phone.

"Got 'em."

"_Oh, finally you're back. What do they say?_" As she spoke, he grabbed a pair of scissors and cut open the first letter.

"I'm opening them now, give me a second…it's…it's from the second publishing house I applied at," he spoke slowly as he skimmed the first paragraph, but line by line he became more dejected. Peter sighed in annoyance.

"_Why do you sound so disappointed?_" she asked, concern easily read in her voice.

"Well, Millard Publishers declined. It's too bad; they're an excellent agency that's published so many renowned authors."

"_Oh, I'm sorry, Pete…check the next one, see what it says!_"

"All right…"

"_How many did you apply to?_"

"About seven or eight, so I guess I shouldn't be so disappointed," Peter replied as he dislodged and unfolded the sheet of paper. He began reading the first line…and nearly dropped the phone.

"…_Peter?_" It felt as if his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth as he read.

"_Peter, what happened? Did you get in?_"

Speechless.

"Uh…um…R-Red…Red Heron Books…"

"_Did they accept you? Did they say yes?_" Peter nodded dumbly. Then he realized she couldn't see his face. It was probably better that way, he was sure his face looked ridiculous with the large, lopsided grin he was sporting.

"Yes…_yes, _they _did!_" he exclaimed, and clutched the letter tightly.

"…Hold on, I'll be right back." With this, he ran into the other room to relay the news to Lucy and Eustace, who enthusiastically gave him their congratulations, before returning a couple minutes later to his phone call.

"_So wait, I'm guessing Red Heron is a good publishing agency then?_" Peter nearly had a coronary.

"You've never heard of it?" he asked incredulously.

"_Well, I've heard of it in passing. And I know I've seen their label somewhere…_"

"…Try all of our school textbooks, Alexa."

"…_Oh._" For the next half hour, Peter explained how Red Heron Books was one of the largest publishing traders in the world, not just in England. It was part of the six major companies, and even had a branch in the film industry.

"Wow, _that sounds so amazing. I wish I was there with you to celebrate it_…_when did they say that you would start working?_" Peter skimmed the rest of the letter quickly, and gave Alexa the paraphrased version of it.

"They say that they're going to call me on the twenty-first to talk about starting employment, hours, salary, and everything else. They sent this letter just to assure me that I had the job as one of their manuscript editors."

"_Oh, the twenty-first, that's my birthday!_" Alexa stated cheerfully.

"Oh, yeah that's ri—" Peter choked on his own words. The twenty first was tomorrow. He hadn't bought her anything.

_I forgot her birthday_, he thought in a panic. _She's going to kill me._

"_Peter? What's wrong?_"

"N-Nothing! I was just thinking…what are you doing for your birthday tomorrow?" Peter questioned innocently…or at least he did his best to feign innocence. He would have to go shopping tonight.

"_I don't think I'm doing much…Mum is working, and I'm still looking for work too._" He frowned at this, and shook his head.

"Oh, work doesn't count on your birthday. What are you doing to _celebrate?_"

"_Hmm, still nothing. I kind of just remembered that it was tomorrow, I've been busy taking care of the house, looking for work, taking odd jobs to help out. University was so expensive…_"

"Yeah, I know…all right, well how about I take you out with the others. They'll want to be with you too," he offered. By the "others," he was sure she would know that he meant: his siblings…and Eustace, by default.

"That would be lovely_,_" she replied honestly. Alexa really didn't want to be alone on her birthday, and what better way than with her family? Well…her closest friends, basically family. It was a mere technicality, in her opinion.

"_Sounds like a plan,_" said Peter. She heard the smile in his voice.

_You can always tell when he's smiling,_ she thought with a grin. _Oh, when did I become so sappy?_

"Yay! ...So, are you happy?" she asked. "With your new job, I mean."

"_Well, I haven't even gotten past my first day yet, so I'm not exactly sure…but I'm happy they picked me. I think I was competing with another guy._"

"Oh, really? Well, then I'm happy you're happy."

"_Yes, finally I'm going to get good pay…this is the real thing, Alexa. This is what I studied for._"

"I know, you're going to do so well there. I _know it_." She was being sincere, even if it sounded like something a cliché "supportive wife" would say.

"_Thanks, love…I have a good feeling about it. And you know what?_"

"What?"

"…I want to buy an apartment," Peter declared.

"…_Really?_"

"_Yes,_" he affirmed. "I'm twenty-one, an adult. You will be too, tomorrow. What are we still doing living in our parents' home?"

"_Well, we have no money._"

"You're very astute," he remarked wryly. "Yes, we have no money _now_. But with this, I'll be able to afford the rent on an apartment soon enough. Maybe even a little cottage-style house sometime in the future…" He realized that he was wasting time, becoming comfortable with the façade the two of them had put up for their parents, for everyone besides Susan, Edmund, Lucy, and now Eustace.

_We can get married, live together again…maybe have children,_ he thought. They had become complacent in pretending they were merely close friends, forgetting that their parents were not stupid. He knew his mother had probably figured them out by now, not of Narnia, but this much of their relationship. She was far too observant not to.

"_That…sounds wonderful, Peter. I would love it…_" Her voice brought him out of his reverie.

"Yes…yes I think it does too…I want to…" he paused and lowered his voice, suddenly wishing the phone was set up in a much more private place. He couldn't even believe they had been talking this long.

"_Yes?_"

"…I want to live with you by my side again." He could have gauged out his eyes at how corny he sounded, as a writer, he should know better. But he kept going.

"I want you with me. No more of this seeing you every other week or so, waiting for your cab to come so we can spend a couple hours at the park, or shopping for my mother's groceries. I want…" It hit him with a pang.

_I want to marry you…_

"…_Peter?_"

…_Again._

**Yes, an altogether cheese-stuffed chapter. Sorry if it was too much fluff. I haven't worked on this in a while, so I may be a little rusty. But good news: for those still reading, I'm working on the eighth chapter already. It won't be as long to wait for the next one, I promise. Maybe a couple days at most, I want to give people a chance to review, leave comments, etc.**

**There were a few things referenced in this chapter that I would like to point out. They are modeled after real places that existed both in the 1940's and today:**

**_College of London_ – The name is a reconstruct of the various "College London" universities (such as Imperial College London, University College London, etc.)**

_**King's University**_** – The name is a construct of both King's College London and Kingston University**

**_Millard Publishers _– These last two are sort of my own personal joke as I parody their names. This one in particular is reminiscent of MacMillan Publishers**

_**Red Heron Books**_ **– I named this similar to Penguin Books, but I described it to model after Random House. All the fun facts about "Red Heron Books" I gathered are true of Random House: being "one of the largest publishing traders in the world," being "part of the six major companies," and even "having a branch in the film industry." **

**I'm happy to be "back in business," so to speak. I wish I could have gotten my friend, Witchy Pixie to beta this chapter, but she's sadly out of town. Ah well, ces't la vie. **


	8. June 20, 1946 — May, 1947

**I'm apologize for my tardiness. It took longer to write this than I originally planned. Now, I did some research on the schooling systems back in the 1940's, and I found that I've made some mistakes concerning the "leaving age" (basically what would be the graduating age of today's "seniors" in high school) of secondary school "pupils"; it was actually age 15 after the Education Act of 1944. **

"**Grades" were separated into primary (ages 5 – 11) and secondary schools (11 – 15), and was further categorized by the Tripartite System: grammar schools, secondary technical schools, and secondary modern schools.**

**Now, as far as fixing my mistake goes, I would love to go back as far as the first chapter and edit…thing is, I've done that once already. It's extremely tiring and time consuming. I'll just work with what I've done so far (as much as it **_**pains me**_**, ****I **_**hate**_** lazy writing****) and ask that all you readers out there that know your history will pardon my ignorance. ; ) **

**I'm just going to wing it, again, as much is pains me.**

* * *

><p><em>~Hereafter~<em>

Chapter Eight – June 20, 1946 — May, 1947

_June 20, 1946_

_I want to marry you…_

"…_Peter?_"

…_Again._

"Yes?" he asked airily. Peter found himself spacing in light of his small revelation. Why didn't he think of this sooner? He supposed that with their lives going by so fast, he hadn't had the time to think so seriously on their relationship.

_That probably sounds bad. Not going to bring up that point if she ever asks._

"_You didn't…well…yes. Peter, yes, I want that too…so much_," she replied. He heard the soft sniffling in each of her pauses, and he frowned.

"Are you crying?"

"_No…not really…_"

"Why are you crying?" he asked quietly.

"_I'm…I'm happy, Pete. I'm happy we're finally talking about this._"

_Finally? _He thought. _Has she thought about this often?_

"Finally?" His tongue slipped before he could really think through his response.

"_Y-Yes…we're adults now, Peter…I've been waiting…we've been waiting for a long time, longer than we really needed to._" She surprised him with his words, to say the least. He himself had only just thought of it.

"How long have you felt this way, Alexa?"

"_Oh, Peter…it doesn't matter now, does it?_"

"It matters," he mumbled. She giggled a bit.

"_I'll see you tomorrow._"

True to his word, Peter did take Alexa and the rest of his family out with the little money he had (excluding Susan and Edmund, who could pay for themselves).The restaurant was small, but quaint, and at six in the evening, the place was almost completely filled out. They talked for nearly an hour while eating their meal, and while Alexa was distracted, Edmund and Peter motioned for the waiter to come closer.

"Yes, sir, what can I do for you?" he asked discreetly.

"Will you do us a favor and bring some cake for desert? It's our friend's birthday," said Edmund, who vaguely gestured to the black-haired girl who was participating in a rather loud conversation (thanks to Susan) with his siblings and his cousin.

"Yes, of course." The waiter took down the order and calmly walked away, leaving the two brothers.

"Oh, I forgot to have them order vanilla cake…ah well," Edmund said, shrugging his shoulders and bringing his drink to his lips. They talked for a few minutes more, before Peter finally noticed something.

"What is that you're drinking?" Peter asked. He hadn't been listening when Edmund was ordering, but through the glass it looked a dark and thick reddish purple. Ed smirked, taking another slow sip.

"You can't have any, if that's what you're aiming for."

"I'm not, it just looks like—"

"Oh, Peter, look! Susan got me a bracelet," Alexa turned and showed him her wrist that now held a simple silver band.

"It's beautiful," he agreed.

"And did I mention I love the pendant you gave me?"

"Yes, yes you did. But you can say it one more time, if you like." Alexa had to roll her eyes at his cheeky grin. She opened her mouth to retort when she saw the waiter arrive out of the corner of her eye with a tray in his hand. Peter noticed as well, and tried to move his chair out of the way. It was just too bad that the man holding the tray didn't notice Peter.

The entire group at the table gave a start when Alexa slowly looked up from her lap…which was encrusted with vanilla cake. Her bangs were coated in frosting, as was the front of her dress. Her eyes were wide with surprise, as were the expression of those around her. Peter was in shock.

_I can't believe it…I'm going to get beat tonight. _But just then, Edmund got up from his seat and started to move around Peter and the gaping man who stood with an empty tray, looking as pale as a sheet. Susan had moved out of the way, up and out of her chair that was next to Alexa. Peter hadn't reacted quick enough, and was partially freckled with cake pieces.

"Here let me help. Oh wait, let me put down my glass—" Edmund miscalculated his steps with the slippery cake on the floor, and tripped. The entire glass emptied itself down the front of Alexa's dress, and she gasped with the sudden uncomfortable pouring of sticky, dark liquid. Her gaze slid up to Edmund, who fell back into Susan's chair. He put up his hands in a placating manner when her eyes narrowed in fury. Edmund could practically feel flames in his hair and sweat down his spine.

She began to rise from her seat when Peter reached out to stop her…but in doing so, he knocked over the plate of what had been her meal onto her lap…adding to the cake. Her head snapped in his direction, pinning him to his seat with a piercing stare. After the plate slid to the floor, he dislodged his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

"Uh…well…at least the cake was vanilla…that's your favorite right?"

Alexa shoved a fistful of cake into his face. A second went down his shirt.

xXx

Nearly five minutes later the six of them were successfully "shown out" of the restaurant for "causing a ruckus in public," but given a free cake for their trouble. They were all laughing it off by the time they got outside, including Alexa…even Peter and Edmund, who were also "stuffed" with pastry.

Once Peter had gotten the remaining filth off of him in the shower and was dressed again, he made his way downstairs so that Edmund could use the shower. Walking by the kitchen, he passed Susan, who was once again on the phone.

_Does she ever quit? _he thought with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh, Peter, there you are! Someone is calling for you," said Susan. She held out the phone, and he took it from her quickly. He had a feeling that he knew who it was.

"Hello?"

"_Hello, is this Mr. Peter Pevensie?_"

"Yes, this is he. May I ask who is speaking?"

"_I'm David Schilling, and I represent Heron Books as editor-in-chief._"

* * *

><p>Peter walked at a fast clip alongside David, who was giving him a short tour of the offices and workrooms.<p>

"Look, David, I just wanted to say thank you so much for accepting me into this position—"

"I wouldn't thank me yet, Peter. There's my office over there." David pointed to the right of the many small cubicles in the middle of the room. "You're going to need to know where I am, because after you finish editing a manuscript you're going to hand it off to Susie, who's going to give it to Mark, who's going to give it to Marge, who's going to give it back to you, and you're going to give it to me for a final read through. In that exact order."

"Why so many people for one manuscript?" asked Peter.

"That's the cycle. If it goes through you first, it has to go through all of us. But if Susie finds one while you do, she only has to pass it up, not down to you."

"Why is that?" David spared him a glance before pausing in front of a grey cubicle.

"Because you're the new kid. Enjoy your last minutes of freedom. An agent should come to meet you with a possible book within the hour." With that, David (who had sounded so pleasant on the phone) left Peter to his own devices. He would just have to wait for the agent, whoever that was going to be, he surmised. Until then, just what the hell what he supposed to do?

_Enjoy my freedom, apparently._

"Hey, you're the new guy right?" Peter looked over and saw a woman, probably mid-thirties, with a slender figure and a large pair of bright, blue eyes; the most apparent feature he noticed about her.

"Yeah, I'm Peter," he said as he stood and walked over. "You must be…Susie? Or Marge?"

"Susie," she admitted, shaking his offered hand.

"Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, hey, don't take David too seriously. It's a lot of work, but working here isn't the worst thing you could be doing," she said, brushing back a strawberry blonde strand behind her ear.

"Oh, yeah? Well, thanks…" Peter restrained a sigh. He did admit, things could be worse. At least this woman was friendly. "Do you know who my agent is supposed to be, or when he's coming? David said within the hour, but he gave me the impression that I'd just be sitting here until he came."

"Well, he said he would be back in half an hour," Susie started, looking thoughtful.

"Oh, all right. That's not bad—"

"Forty-five minutes ago," she finished. Peter deflated.

"…Oh…well, who is he?" At this, Susie rolled her eyes.

"His name is—"

"Well, I just know that damn mop of blonde hair anywhere." Peter turned to the sound of the voice, and immediately had to grin.

"_Richard? _You _bastard_, you said you were going to come visit me a _month_ ago!" Peter exclaimed. Leaning casually on the frame of the cubicle entrance was Richard Kingsley, donned in a black pinstriped suit and his customary knowing smirk. He pushed off of it and the two friends clasped hands. Meanwhile, Susie only smiled, shaking her head as she let herself out.

"Bye, Peter, good luck with this clown," she threw over her shoulder.

"Oh, bye! Sorry, Susie," Peter replied. He felt a pang of guilt for his language in front of a lady he had only just met, but his attention was quickly reverted back to Richard with the conversation at hand. Peter attempted a glare at the fool who hadn't contacted him since June; the desired affect was lost, however, by the broad grin etched on his face.

"Sorry, mate," Richard began. "University bit me in the ass, got me in the habit of doing something with my life every day. So naturally, I had to go out and get a job. If I knew you'd be here, I would've told Linda to call Alexa. She's still around, right?"

"Of course she is. She's at home getting lessons ready, though. She's going to start teaching two classes at a local secondary school in the fall," Peter explained.

"That's good, she's bound to be great with kids," Richard replied with an approving nod.

"Yeah, thanks…so what are you doing here?" asked Peter.

"Well, I'm an agent. David told me cubicle D was the new guy I'd be working with…so guess who?" Richard said with a grin. Peter returned it wholeheartedly.

_Mid-August, 1946_

It was a rather large building; white and brown paint, black lettering, square-paneled windows. There was a sign above the huge double doors welcoming King's University students. It was just his luck that the second he walked through those doors and received his schedule, he looked into the face of his first professor, Dr. Merriman (his name was listed on the schedule). The face was not amused by the luggage on his left foot.

"You would do well to get your…overgrown bookcase off my leg."

"S-So sorry, sir." Edmund moved as quick as he could out of the older man's way. He appeared to be mid to late fifties with a trimmed, black beard. It was streaked with grey and he wore large, round glasses that sat upon a narrow nose. Edmund could already tell the man was going to be a hard-ass.

"Hmph, better be…damn disrespectful kids," the professor said as he walked away, not _quite_ under his breath. Edmund waited until Dr. Merriman was completely turned in the opposite direction before rolling his eyes.

_I hope I don't get senile _that_ quickly._

* * *

><p>"No one may go to the bathroom without your permission. They must raise their hands at all time. Homework must be given every day on time, and at the beginning of class. Tardiness should not be allowed or encouraged, but that should be obvious. Any questions you have should be directed toward me after class. If it's important, you may call the number provided on your desk. Any questions so far?"<p>

Alexa stared at Headmaster Gates blankly. He stood nearly a head and a half over her, with neatly combed back brown hair and hard, pale blue eyes. He had a clean shaved face, but a methodical disposition. Internally she felt a bit intimidated by the taller, commanding man, but outwardly she did not show any of her inner thoughts. It was something she had been trained to do from long ago, when she had been in the commanding position, as this man in front of her had been trained to deal with anything from unruly children to inadequate teachers.

"No, sir, but do you have the key to my classroom?" asked Alexa. She readjusted her hold on the two rather thick curriculum books. The headmaster had sent them to her about a month ago, so that she could prepare accordingly for the school year. Alexa had strong feelings that this year wasn't going to be as straightforward as Headmaster Gates made it seem, but maybe that was because she was teaching secondary pupils only four to six years younger than she.

"Here you are, now go to room 15B. That is only _one_ of the history rooms, but you will operate this room exclusively," he explained and handed her the key. "As you well know, you will teach twice a day: history in the morning, geography in the afternoon. Your pupils will arrive in about half an hour, so I suggest you go to the classroom to prepare."

_These children are just around Lucy's age, how am I going to do this?_ Alexa restrained a sigh.

"Yes, sir, thank you," Alexa replied politely, and walked out of the headmaster's office without a spared glance. It was a good thing for her that there were signs on the walls with classroom numbers, or else she would have never found the room. She wasn't about to ask _him _for directions.

xXx

Once the room was unlocked, Alexa settled her things on the small desk at the front of the room.

"Okay, now what?" she said aloud. Her hand skimmed over the cover of one of the curriculum books.

_I guess I should get ready for the kids to come in, _she thought, and began organizing handouts she had prepared for the first lesson.

xXx

Of _course_ things couldn't be easy. Why should they?

"Please sit down, you've gone to the bathroom twice already. We are on page ten." Grumbling, the boy sat down. Alexa skimmed her roster along with the seating chart. Michael Finch—that was his name. Sixteen and rowdy as hell from the first day, and why not? It was only her first day as well, after all. She knew this was a bad idea, she _told_ Peter.

"What if I don't feel like reading?" the boy mumbled, even as he lowered himself into his seat. This caught Alexa's attention quickly.

"Excuse me?" she asked, raising a brow as she stood a bit straighter. When Michael did not answer, she slowly walked toward his desk.

"Page ten, please read the first two paragraphs out loud for us," she instructed.

_By the Lion, I'm becoming a teacher,_ she thought wryly. And surprisingly, he did as he was told. Though when he was done, he leaned over and whispered to the boy next to him, a gangly blonde who desperately needed a haircut not to mention a hairbrush).

"Is there something you would like to say, Mr. Finch?" she asked. Michael sat up slowly and looked up at her with an annoyed glance.

"No, ma'am."

"Are you sure?"

"…Yes, ma'am."

"Please don't talk without permission."

"Sorry, ma'am." She nodded and went to sit at her desk while the rest of the class did busywork. But just when her back was turned, she heard Michael remark to another, most likely one of his friends.

"_She's_ a bit tight-assed for a teacher that just got out of university."

Her eyes narrowed.

* * *

><p>"Simply a disrespectful, arrogant child! I can't <em>believe<em> he had the _audacity_—and on the first day of school!" Peter, Edmund and Lucy watched as Alexa explained the story as she paced. Well, she had finished the story, now she was just ranting.

"I mean, I disciplined him accordingly! I gave him extra homework. But who can just turn their back when he starts complaining loudly and starts winding up the other students! No, no, I sent finally had to send him down to the Headmaster. And who did Headmaster Gates get mad at? _Me_, for not taking care of the problem quickly enough."

"If it's all the same, I would have done the same thing you did," said Peter, looking up from his newspaper. Previously, he had been busy with looking for affordable apartments when Alexa had come over to join them for dinner. But here he knew how she felt; he had experienced rowdy children before, and had to put them in their place before they could do any lasting damage. "Just make sure your point comes across. Don't let them get in edgewise."

"I _tried_," Alexa nearly whined.

"Oh, come on. You've stared down pompous nobles and pretentious ambassadors plenty times before," Edmund quipped. "That's all he is, a rich kid with an attitude."

Alexa knew he was right. The school was expensive and snooty, Alexa herself was lucky to have been selected to fill in one of the teaching positions.

"Not to mention a young lad as hardheaded as his father," Lucy murmured. Peter shot his sister a dry look, while Alexa managed a half smile. But thinking of _that_ young boy always made her heart hurt.

"And besides, the art of intimidation can't be totally lost on you yet. Oreius taught us, after all," said Edmund.

"He was always so good to us," said Peter. "He trained us, helped us learn how to rule the people, and followed us without fail."

"In and out of battle," Edmund pointed out.

"He was our greatest advisor, and probably one of our oldest friends, besides Tumnus," said Alexa.

"The two of them always did their best not only to serve us, but protect us in their own ways, I think," said Lucy. She, too, missed her old friend Mr. Tumnus so very much. He was the first Narnian she had ever encountered, and he had saved her. What, she wondered, had she ever done to repay him? Yes, they had made him one of their main advisors and had kept him close to them in service…but was that really enough?

"I think Eustace would have liked to meet both Mr. Tumnus and Oreius, he could have learned much," she added. Eustace had left two weeks before, towards the beginning of August to go back to school. But he promised that he would be back to visit soon, probably around Christmas, which did not take too long to come around. In the next few months, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy continued their studies, and Peter grew to achieve much success with Richard at the publishing house.

Meanwhile, Alexa grew three thorns in her side: Michael, Harold (the shaggy blonde), and Douglas, who were unremittingly wreaking havoc in her class, were also on the verge of bringing Alexa to her wits end. No matter what she did, whatever she threatened, they would not cease in disrupting her lessons. And when one of them (probably Michael, she suspected) had put a tray of pudding on her chair and waited until she sat down to laugh hysterically, she had to call their parents in for a meeting the week before the 20th of December.

"He did _what?_"

"You _must_ be mistaken."

"My boy would _never!_"

"I assure you, my dry cleaning bill can speak for itself," Alexa said dryly. "And from fifteen and sixteen-year-olds, no less. I would have expected all this mess from primary students, but they are almost men now. They ought to know better, I would think."

"Well, what can Douglas do to make up for his many…" The mother glared over at her son before continuing, "_Disruptions?_"

"Yes, and Michael. We've had…some problems in the past with his behavior, but it's something that we're willing to correct," said the boy's father, who spoke for both himself and his wife.

"I can't believe Harold did these things for so long. What will be his punishment?" asked Harold's mother. The father only nodded once, a large, burly man not seemingly one to be as outspoken as his spouse.

"Well, they may serve an hour's worth of detention every day this week to make up for their constant trouble making, and write a three page essay on a historical event of my choosing before the holiday break arrives," said Alexa. All three boys groaned. Their parents shushed them.

Nonetheless, the week went by with minimal disruption from what Alexa had privately nicknamed, the Three Stooges, after the popular American television show. Each of them came after school every day from Monday to Friday, forced by their parents. And by Friday, they handed in their reports.

"I trust all of these are at least two pages?" said Alexa.

"Yes, Miss Williams," said Douglas, who actually looked the most repentant out of the three. Harold only looked uncomfortable, while Michael seemed as if he really, by this point, could care less.

"All right, well, have a merry Christmas," she said, dismissing them.

"Oh, wait. This is for you, Miss Williams," said Michael. He offered her a cake, a simple peace offering. She took it dubiously, but thanked the boy all the same. She doubted it was sincere, but who was she to pass up on a free cake? Peter and Edmund would most likely devour it anyway.

xXx

When she visited the Pevensie household later that night, Edmund did take the cake from her, as expected.

"I knew there was a reason why you're my favorite," he commented as he stuck a fork right into the center.

"Well, one of my problem pupils gave it to me," Alexa began as Peter helped her take off her coat. "So don't be surprised if you find yourself eating—"

"DEAR GOD, WHAT _IS_ THIS?"

"…Dirt. Well, what do you know?"

"UGH, IT HAS DIRT _AND_ A _WORM_ IN IT!"

"Well, spit it out, idiot!" Peter exclaimed through his laughter. Both him and Alexa sat down to join the choking Edmund.

"_BLECH_, were you TRYING to kill me?"

"I said it wasn't mine. You didn't listen to me."

"I could kill you."

"No you couldn't. You could try."

"I'd like to."

"Peter would kill you first."

"Yes, I would."

"Damn it."

"Sucker."

"Midget."

"You have black teeth."

"Am I the only adult?"

"Shut up, Peter."

"_I'm_ the older brother. You can't make me."

"_Now_ who's the child?"

"Shut up, Alexa."

"You shut up, Peter!"

"Shut up, _both of you!_"

"…I got us a house."

"WHAT?" Alexa sat up straight at this.

"I found us an apartment, low cost. Both of our salaries would be enough to cover it," said Peter.

"But…we-we're not—" They weren't married. She couldn't quite finish her sentence, because Peter already knew. But he had a plan.

"Don't worry, I'm working on it."

_December 24, 1946_

It was like they were all six years younger again, playing in the snow, when at that time, it was in the middle of summer. Not now, during the Christmas of 1946, but years ago, to a simpler time that broke way to something…not so simple indeed. The four of them remembered it quite clear, save for Eustace, who could not visit this Christmas, or Susan, whose memory was becoming quite distant to those sorts of things.

Susan had a new boyfriend, Philip, who she "adored with all of her heart." But then again, she had adored the last three as well. Even now Susan was with him, sitting on the porch while she watched her siblings play. She was too old to be participating in such childish games, and it was her opinion that both Peter and Alexa were as well. But they rarely listened to her anymore.

"Can't catch me!" Lucy called as she ducked behind a tree. A few snowballs fell on either side of her, and she squealed and slid down further.

"Gotcha!" Edmund shouted as he peeled her from the tree. She laughed out right and tried to wriggle away, but to no avail. Since she couldn't move him, Lucy stepped a foot in between where he stood and she twisted, putting him off balance. When he began to fall, however, he grabbed on tightly to his sister and brought her down with him.

"It's called a 'snowball fight,' not a wrestling match!" said Alexa with a giggle as she approached them.

"Ah, right you are," said Ed, sitting up in the snow. "How about we level the playing field then?" Alexa's eyes widened as a mischievous smirk spread across his face, and she tried retracing her steps. But it was too late; Edmund and Lucy began pelting her with snowballs. Alexa turned and ran blindly, trying to get as far away from the duo as possible. In her haste, she didn't see the long, thick branch in her path that had fallen from a tree.

"Alexa, watch out for that—" Her foot inevitably caught it, and she fell in a black heap in the snow, her hair falling around her face. Even her dark jacket was a stark contrast to the white, powdery flecks.

"Thanks for the warning, Pete," she said dryly, but took his offered hand. She saw his grin, and warned him explicitly not to laugh. However, he couldn't restrain himself from chuckling at her haggard appearance. Rolling her eyes, Alexa began to walk away, but he used her captured hand to tug her back to him and kissed her lips chastely. When they broke apart, she had to smile.

"I thought we weren't supposed to do that here," she said, fingering the lapels of his jacket.

"Eh, I'm sure they've figured it out by now," said Peter.

"True, but you don't want to tell them?" she asked.

"They've probably seen us just now; I can tell my mother is spying through the window. What's to tell?" Alexa had to laugh.

xXx

By the time Alexa had left to be with her mother on Christmas Eve that evening (her mother had been working all that day), and Philip likewise left to be with his own family, the Pevensie family had sat to a quiet time of storytelling, as was their tradition every year. Peter started, naturally, and told of magnificent tales of clever nymphs, antisocial beings called "Marsh-wiggles," and ancient giants that took resident in perilous mountains. Edmund and Lucy also told their share of stories, between journeys to uninhabited islands, to battling sea monsters, and even meeting beautiful stars.

But eventually, Susan retired for sleep, followed by Edmund, Lucy, and even Helen. Only Peter and John were left in the living room, talking quietly into the night of life, people, work, anything and everything, until John brought up something that truly caught Peter's attention.

"So, are you finally going to buy that apartment?" he asked. Peter was taken aback that his father actually had picked up on that.

"Well…I intend to."

"When?"

"You're not surprised?"

"For heaven's sake, Peter. You're twenty-one years old. Get out of my house already."

"Thanks, Dad."

"I'm just saying, you have to live your own life now. Getting a job was a start, but actually, now that I think of it, there's something else first before you move out," John said, pointing a finger at his son.

"And what is that?" Peter asked in amusement.

"Do you intend on marrying that girl, at least?" asked John. Peter paused, effectively sobered.

"Yes."

"No hesitation…good. She's a good girl. Do it sooner rather than later, you might regret it," John said with a nod.

"I don't think I have to worry about that, but why do you say that?"

"For obvious reasons. You wait too long, she might change her mind. I've seen it happen."

"To you?" Peter asked incredulously. Surely his mother hadn't done that.

"No, to my old friend, Ernest. He waited until after he came back from war to tell his high school sweetheart. But when he went to visit her, he found that she was already married, a child on the way as well," John said, his expression suddenly solemn, not as carefree as before.

"That's terrible."

"Quite," John quipped. "But you won't let that happen to you, I'm sure. You're too stubborn for it, like your mother. You don't know what I went through to make sure I was the one to have this conversation with you and not your mother." Peter winced. That could have been uncomfortable.

"I appreciate that."

"Just don't take her for granted, don't take anything for granted. It might not always be there waiting if you do."

.

.

.

.

.

.

The very next day after Christmas Day, Peter went to see Mary Williams, Alexa's mother. He asked for her blessing to marry her daughter, to which Mary had replied, "_I was wondering when you were going to make an honest woman out of my daughter._"

On the same day, Peter went out and bought a ring. It wasn't the same cut or style as the first, but he very much doubted that rings were crafted by dwarves anymore.

.

.

.

.

.

.

He waited until January, the day after New Years to ask her. Unfortunately, on that night he couldn't give her a _Camille_ flower, but he gave her a white lily instead, her second favorite. You could guess what her answer was.

.

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.

.

.

On May 3, 1947, they were married in the church in front of a small congregation of their family and friends; of whom Peter's cousin (and Jill, a friend Eustace had made at school after, subsequently, a Narnian adventure—something Peter hadn't been told the entire story to, but it had something to do with a lady and a green kirdle), aunt, and his mother were seated up front. Alexa's mother sat on the other side with Mary's sister and her sons, Alexa's cousins. Edmund was Peter's best man, while Richard, Thomas Kincaid, and Charles Hardy, his friends still in contact from university were his chosen groomsmen.

Alexa chose Susan as her maid of honor. Despite the conflict between them in Susan's behavior, Alexa could still see the sister she had once had in the younger woman, and had explained this to Lucy, who understood. Lucy, Linda, and Diane (yes, even Diane accepted Alexa's request) made up Alexa's bridesmaids. And to both Peter and Alexa's surprise, a month before the wedding, John had offered to walk Alexa down the aisle. She did need _someone_ to "fill in," as it were; her own father had died years before. It was unorthodox, but it worked in their favor.

"_If not the father of the bride, why not the father-in-law of the bride?_" John had remarked.

The wedding was held on the same day as the first had been, a fact unknown to all but the bride, the groom, and six others (including Jill, Eustace, and Professor Kirke, who had almost not come to the ceremony, but obliged to Peter's incessant requesting). His wedding gift to them was a standard Bible. On it was a scribbled note that read: "_Have you found Him yet?_"

.

.

.

.

.

After their honeymoon, the couple moved into the house Peter had bought with his father's help (that John had pretty much forced upon Peter, for because of his pride he had not wanted the financial help, but agreed for his new bride's sake). They lived there comfortably for some time until a cloudless day in May, when they received an odd letter in the mail from Professor Digory Kirke.

.

.

.

.

.

At the same time, on a cloudless day in May, Edmund received a note on his doorstep (he only knew that it was meant for him because the sender had addressed him personally in the first line). He had a feeling he knew who it was, but he heeded the blatant clue: "_under the oak tree, you'll find me, waiting for something that could be fleeting._"

He went to the park with nothing but the clothes on his back and the spare change in his pocket.

There he saw brunette curls that framed a lightly freckled face. Bright, green eyes peered at him from under dark lashes and thin, silver glasses. He saw lips that were not too full, but painted red.

"Hello, Edmund," she greeted him warmly, with a wide smile. It wasn't a perfect smile, but to him, it held a kind of prettiness. "I wanted to tell you something, but I think you already know."

It was carefree; it allowed him to smile back, and close the gap that held between them. He had searched for the word, wracked his brain. What made her so alluring in all her quirks and oddities, her incessant talking and never being still? But now…he knew.

"I do." He grazed her cheek with the back of his hand, and her eyes closed. And as he leaned in and brushed her lips with his, he thought it.

_Free. She's free. Of anything that would hold her back from life; from disappointment, from failure, from anything that haunts her past…she holds a love for life…and that makes her beautiful. _

He hadn't even needed the spare change in his pocket.

* * *

><p><strong>Fluff galore, for all you fluff addicts out there. I tried to make it as least corny as possible, so my apologies if I didn't quite succeed. We'll be wrapping up in the next couple chapters. This one hopefully succeeded in tying many loose ends, and will continue to do so especially in the next chapter. Feel free to leave comments, concerns, likes, dislikes, etc. You all know the drill. <strong>


	9. May, 1947 — September, 1947

**Okay, things are going to start speeding up from now on with the plot. There is much ground we have to cover just in this chapter alone, so all of you be prepared! I'm so sorry for taking three months to update, I assure you, it wasn't my intention. But I'm here now, and that's what counts. ^_^**

* * *

><p><em>~Hereafter~<em>

Chapter Nine – May, 1947—September, 1947

_May, 1947 _

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Peter Pevensie,_

_Despite how long it has taken, I assume you are doing well in your new address outside of London. I am also certain by now you have received my simple gift…I will say nothing else about it, but that if you use it well, you will find it to be the greatest gift you may ever receive. _

_However, I have written to you for another matter. I myself have taken up a new residence since you last stayed with me, as you well know. Here in my humble country home, I wish to initiate a small gathering of sorts for those who have seen as we have seen, and talk freely of what we have experienced in our time—where those who are friends of Narnia may congregate in this world and speak of Him clearly._

_In addition to this letter, you will find another for your younger brother and sisters. It will be safer this way, kept in secret from the elder Mr. and Mrs. John Pevensie. I do not recall ever giving you my address, but it is written for you below. _

_I would be much obliged to have the company of you both for the 18th of October at noon day for this gathering. I will be sending another letter closer to the appointed date in reminder. Be well._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Digory Kirke_

Once Peter finished reading the letter aloud, he folded it closed and rested his arms on the dining table, his hands still holding the parchment. He looked over to his wife, who sat across from him at the table. They were not dining, simply reading the words the Professor had written to them in earnest; the two were surprised, to say the least. Never had he uttered so much in depth to either of them, save for when they were under his tutelage for the short year before their entrance exams.

"I had almost forgotten Professor Kirke had moved…" Alexa trailed in wonderment.

"Well, remember, he lost most of his fortune some time ago," Peter reminded her. It was why he and Alexa had stayed with the Professor while Edmund and Lucy stayed with their aunt and Eustace. The many rooms of the old mansion had been cleaned out to prepare for the Professor's move, leaving only a few for him to occupy.

"I remember well now. The thought is just so odd, going to visit him…and not going _there_, to what had been our home for so long," said Alexa.

"Yes, it's sad, but…I think this will be good for everyone. I mean, it won't be just us. Eustace and Jill will be there…"

"But what about Susan?" At this Peter frowned deeply, pursing his lips.

"I have no intention of telling Susan a thing," he stated firmly. Seeing Peter's grim expression and the immediate stiffness in his posture at the mention of his sister, Alexa stood and went to him. His gaze was not upon her, however, and instead focused on the letter still in his hands. Alexa soothed a hand over his shoulder on the side farther from her—the left side, then rested the other on his right arm.

_His sword arm_, she recollected in passing. When she felt him relax a bit at her touch, she proceeded.

"Peter…do you think she has a right to know?" she asked softly. The tension returned to him in an instant, and Alexa could not blame him. Susan was a tender issue, for all of them, and would only be reopened with the matter of this letter.

Peter was agitated and tense. He knew this, even in his mind, but he knew for his own good he should try to be calm. When he stood, he took care not to be too brash. It was not his wife's fault for this. And so, he gently removed her hands from his arms and took a few steps away from the table.

"She forfeited that right when she denounced our belief in Aslan as child's play—a belief she once shared with all of her heart," Peter said curtly. Alexa merely sighed. She could forgive him of his terse tone with her, at least about this.

"Yes, Peter, I know. But can we, in good conscious, not at least invite her to attend with us?" Peter turned to her then, and gave her an incredulous look.

"And what havoc do you think that will create?" Peter asked, and he had to laugh at the very idea. Albeit, it was a dry, humorless laugh. "There is no way she will come, let alone tolerate us telling her of it. If you even mention the Professor, she will be suspicious. If you mentionthe very _word_ 'Narnia,' you know she'll damn near explode." Alexa threw up her hands in defeat, shaking her head as she made her way to the back of the house.

"Fine, fine. I give up," she tossed over her shoulder as she walked through the living-room. Peter followed her, only because he was curious as to why she wasn't arguing more ardently on the issue. Partially, he felt guilty, but it had to be said, as it was the hard truth. Alexa has never been willing to give up on his sister, for which he was grateful in some ways, but he though it did Alexa more harm than good in most cases.

"Alexa, I'm sorry," said Peter. It made her pause in her steps. When he reached her, he pushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, while his other hand trailed her upper arm.

"…But it's the truth. Please, just accept that Susan is no longer who she once was. It's…you know it's pained me to say these things and truly mean them." He saw the sadness in her eyes, and the unshed tears as well. But she held them back and instead, breathed in deeply. She leaned forward, resting her head against his chest. His arms circled the frame of her waist loosely.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice quiet, almost a whisper. "I know this hurts you as well. I was being selfish."

"No, how can I blame you? Susan is my sister, my responsibility, and I didn't stop this…I don't even know her anymore," he replied, his hold on her tightening fractionally.

"Peter, how could you have stopped that? It's Susan's heart, not yours. And it's really not as bad as it seems…she's grown out of that ditzy faze from secondary school and she is really taking to her studies."

"I suppose…"

"And she's still seeing that young man…Philip, I believe was his name."

"…I _suppose_."

"You don't like Philip, I presume?"

"He is…decent."

"Do you believe so?" Alexa craned her neck to look up at Peter, and struggled to fight the knowing grin quirking at her lips. It didn't go unnoticed by Peter, who gently pulled away from her and folded his arms over his chest.

"Well then, perhaps Susan is already ready to settle," Alexa remarked. At this, Peter's eyes grew wide.

"With that spoiled, _pompous_…There is _no_ way she could possibly…" He trailed off at seeing Alexa's raised a brow at his outburst, and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"So, you do still care," Alexa commented while pretending to admire her nails. She instead kept her attention on Peter's interesting reactions. True, he was getting a bit riled, but she knew if he didn't talk about this now, he never would. Talking about Susan was rare for Peter, and even she had been hesitant to bring up the issue. They hadn't even seen her since the wedding, and before then, it had been months before Alexa called Susan, asking her to be in it as her maid of honor. He hadn't supported her decision exclusively, but he didn't oppose it either; say what he would, she knew he still loved his sister. If he didn't, he wouldn't be so angry and harboring so much resentment over the issue.

"…Of course I bloody care," Peter said at last, running a hand through his already tousled hair. It was one of his various nervous ticks, Alexa had come to recognize in their years together. She also knew for a fact that when agitated, he would take to pursing his lips and grinding his teeth when provoked further. He was already doing the former.

"Well, you don't talk to her, so when would you talk to him?" she asked innocently. He regarded her with a guarded gaze; he now knew she was trying to provoke him into admitting what he had only just said a moment ago, but it was still bloody annoying. He loved his wife, but she really knew how to get down to his wit's end.

"…I do what I bloody well please, _madam_," he replied dryly after a moment's hesitation. She rolled her eyes.

"Of course, _sir_."

* * *

><p>Edmund didn't know why exactly it happened, that unusually sunny May day. It felt like the natural thing, when you've acknowledged having those kinds of feelings for another. He hadn't realized they were there, quite obviously (and for him, painstakingly <em>cliché<em>)…but Peter had actually helped him figure it out.

"_You know what's interesting?" Peter asked._

"_What?"_

"_Her name."_

"_What about it?" Edmund peered at his brother suspiciously. What was he going on about?_

"_Oh, nothing," Peter said, taking on an expression of innocence. "Moira would be happy for you, I think."_

It was strange, but the short exchange had left Edmund both confused and annoyed…at first. He wasn't a moron, he had known at the time that he was fond of Mina. They spent many school nights studying together in the library, taking impromptu trips to the park, and occasionally a walk at the market square. As to the extent of his…

_Oh, how can I put it?_

…Affections…

_Tentatively, tentatively…oh, bloody hell, I kissed her for God's sake. Fine, bloody affections…_

…He hadn't been quite sure, not until the week before he received her letter.

_They were sitting under the oak tree once again. It was a shady spot, and the tree's branches were thick enough to keep out most wetness when avoiding rainy days proved impossible. Edmund was thumbing through a thick text book, periodically jotting down notes after reading a passage. When he began to hear a sporadic…tapping noise, his gaze traveled upward. _

_Mina was fidgeting…yes, not much of a surprise, but it wasn't her usual restless fidgeting. She appeared nervous, pausing from studying her notes to look outward, not at anything in particular. Her pen was being rolled between her forefinger and her thumb as she bit her lip, and when she looked down at her supplies strewn around her, she sighed. _

"_Everything all right?" Edmund asked. Mina snapped her gaze to his, and she blushed._

She never blushes…_ Edmund thought. _

"_What's wrong?" he rephrased, and this time, she bit her lip and looked away._

"_Nothing, don't worry, Edmund." Her voice was cheerful enough, but two things tipped him off: her smile didn't meet her eyes, and her eyes didn't meet his. He sighed and put down his book and papers, and adjusted his position so that he sat directly next to her, their shoulders just brushing._

"_Are you sure?" he prodded further. When she only nodded once, her eyes cast to the grass under her feet, he regarded her silently. For an entire minute, he only stared, and he knew she was starting to feel uncomfortable when she began to fidget once again. _

_Mina chanced a glance in his direction, and she nearly sighed in annoyance when he merely raised a brow knowingly._

"_How can you always tell?" she asked quietly. Edmund furrowed his brows in confusion._

"_What, that something is bothering you? It's obvious."_

"_What do you mean?" she asked. He let out a loose laugh, shaking his head as he did so._

"_You're not exactly subtle."_

"_I don't know what you're talking about." He gave her an incredulous look, but at seeing her deadpan expression, so foreign on her face, he sobered._

"_To me, and most people really, it's obvious. I've never seen you…sad…or upset…like this," he admitted slowly. He wasn't sure how to explain his thoughts, but he was mostly sure he got his point across when she frowned. She frowned. She never frowns. _

"_Is that a bad thing?" she asked._

"_No…no, it's not. I find that people are most often times annoyed, depressed, or complain about things so trivial in their lives, but you like to smile…and talk, and you can never manage to sit still, even during steady conversation." Edmund paused, and took the time to look at her still frowning face. It bothered him. _

"_When you're so quiet and anxious, it doesn't look natural." She gave a small smile at this, despite her raging emotions. Most normal people ignored her and passed her by, paying no attention to the strange girl who couldn't quit tapping her pen off-beat and occasionally talking to herself like no one was there to see. But he was…different…somehow. She liked different. _

"_Not everyone notices, you know," she admitted._

"_Notices what?"_

"_Everything you said. Most people just walk on by me…but you didn't walk away."_

"_When would I have had the opportunity to walk away?" he asked, still very much confused. What in Aslan's name was she talking about?_

"_The first night in the library. You could have moved…you could have walked away from the weird fidgeting girl with glasses too big for her face…" At this, Edmund stopped her from going any further with her train of thought as he waved a dismissing hand in front of him._

"_Wait, wait, wait, where is all this coming from? Yes, I thought you were a little bit of a nut at first, but…" he trailed, uncertain. But her wide-eyed stare prompted him to continue his ramble. "But…you were interesting." _

_Her eyebrows raised as she gave him a _look_._

"_You still are," he added._

"_How so?" she immediately urged._

There she is, _he thought with a sigh._

"_Well…I don't know…you…you…make me laugh." At her unimpressed expression, he went on. "You made me think about things I had never thought about before…like if it is truly appropriate to bumble about with only one shoe on your foot."_

_When she giggled some, he managed a small, crooked smile._

"_You never stop smiling, always happy, and I've…always…sort of…admired you for…that." As his sentence trailed off into a murmur, he groaned in his mind._

Why do such simple things as _talking to a woman _have to be so difficult?

_But when she smiled at him—truly smiled—it made the discomfort…worth it somehow…_

"_Well, do you want to know what I admire about you?" she asked._

"_Why would I want to know such a thing?" His answer was sarcastic, but teasing all the same. And she knew that._

"_You're determined…no matter what happens to be thrown at you, you strive to overcome it…it's a quality I've always wished I had in myself." Mina said nothing more as she gently placed a hand on his shoulder for but a moment, before she stood. As she walked away, she suddenly stopped and turned back to him. The summer breeze caught her curls, making them fly around her face. _

"_Before you, I had always thought people…relationships…were fleeting. Most people never bothered to sit with me and get to know me, even despite their better judgment." She paused, looking down at her feet before returning her gaze to his. "Thank you for staying with me." _

_Edmund could only watch her leave, transfixed by what she had said and done…_

_Whatever than may have been, his shoulder still burned with her touch._

Whatever it was, it wasn't love—not yet. However…maybe…

There was a sharp knock at the door. It forced him to get up from the couch he was occupying and look through the peephole.

_What the hell?_

"_Are you going to let me in, or what?_"

_What the hell is _Peter_ doing here so soon? _Despite his inner thoughts, Edmund opened the front door of the house to let his brother in.

"What are you doing here? Where's Alexa?" asked Edmund.

"I just came to drop off Dad's car, the mechanic fixed what was wrong with the guzzler…" Peter paused, and asked in a lowered voice, "Are they here?"

"No. Well, Dad's at work, he was able to take a cab. Mum is upstairs hemming one of Susan's dresses. Why, you want me to call her down?" Peter quickly shook his head.

"No, I need to give this to you," he said, and reached into his coat pocket. He took out a small envelope and handed it to Edmund, who looked at it dubiously.

"Who's it from?" he asked.

"The Professor. Read it while I go say hello to Mum. Is Su up there too?"

"Yes, I just said Mum is helping her with the dress."

"All right, fine. Don't have to get touchy."

"I'm not being touchy," Edmund denied with a roll of his eyes.

"Just read the letter, I'll be back."

"Things were more peaceful here without you," Edmund teased. Peter rolled his eyes and made his way up the stairs, while Edmund ripped open the envelope.

"_Dear Mr. Edmund Pevensie…_well doesn't this sound proper?" he thought aloud.

* * *

><p><em>August, 1947<em>

"Philip, would you like to go to the cinema with me tomorrow night?" Susan toyed with a brunette curl as she held the phone to her ear, and she smiled to herself when she heard Philip's voice on the other end.

"_Whatever you want, my dear._" Susan frowned.

"Why is it that _I_ always initiate when we go out?"

"_Because you always come up with the best ideas_," Philip replied. Susan smiled at this, only because in her mind, she had to agree with his simple statement. Who could argue with the truth?

"Oh, Philip, by now you well know that flattery will get you everywhere," she admitted with a giggle.

"_Yes, yes I do…Oh, quick! Turn your radio on to the station you usually listen to, there's a song on right now that I think you should listen to…I dedicate it to you._"

"All right, I'll be right back then." Susan set the phone down and scrambled to the living room, where the radio sat upon the coffee table. The moment she switched it on, she knew the song he was speaking of. It happened to be a rerecording of a song originally released in 1928, and was later revived in 1944. It was already a few years old, but remained one of Susan's favorite songs. She smiled and hummed along to the beginning tune as she returned to the phone.

"This is the rerecording with Harry James and Richard Haymes, isn't it?" she asked once the phone was properly settled against her ear.

"_Yes, it is. I knew you would pick up on it,_" said Philip. Susan could almost picture the half-smile she knew would be on his face, his soft blue eyes that crinkled at the corners, his dark, short hair brushed back, and with an overall relaxed demeanor that never seemed to break.

"_I'll get by, as long as I have you_," the lyrics began to resound from the radio, and Susan sang along while the receiver still carried her voice to Philip on the line.

"_Though there may be rain, and darkness too, I'll not complain_—come on, Philip, join me!" Susan encouraged, and let out another giggle. This song always managed to brighten her day, and it was sweet of him to have dedicated it to her.

_But wait_, she thought. Her voice trailed off, but Harry James continued singing without her.

_Does this mean…he loves me? The song is a love song, he would have had to have known…_

"—_I'll see it through. Though I may…be far away, it's true…_"

_I'm quite…fond of Phillip. We may have not known each other long, but he has become dear to me, and is actually very sweet_, thought Susan. Though she had never thought she would be with someone like him in her life—lanky, perhaps a bit stiff and a tad antisocial, but quite the genius—he was considerate of her. He was the archetype of punctuality, always coming and going when he says he will, never forgetting her plans, or letting her down because of his schedule. He was always there when she needed him, practically at her beg and call…

_Then why does it feel like there's something missing?_

"_Say, what care I. Dear, I'll get by, as long as I have you_…"

"It's quite beautiful, isn't it? Thank you for dedicating it to me," Susan whispered as she vacantly stared at the floor. Once the final strains of the song ended, she asked Philip to wait a moment while she turned off the radio. When she was comfortably in her seat, hesitantly, she brought the phone back to her ear.

"_It's quite beautiful, I agree_."

"Philip?"

"_Yes?_"

"I know this may be forward…but, since you dedicated the song to me, I would just like to know…do you mean it?" she asked. Vaguely, a stray memory played in her mind of these words said similarly.

_Not me…someone else…perhaps Alexa, but it was a long time ago. Perhaps before Peter first proposed to her…I think she told me the story…it _must_ have happened when he proposed in January, when she asked him plainly…if he loved her._

"_Whatever do you mean, my dear?_" Philip asked, sounding quite confused. Susan shook her head, freeing herself of the strange, hazy memory.

"What I mean is, do you actually mean the lyrics of this song? They describe a long-term commitment."

"_You're asking me if I'm dedicated to you?_" His tone was incredulous, and she could tell he was most-likely a bit hurt by her question.

"Well, in a way, yes…I am…quite serious about you. I just…I want to know if you're serious about me. About _us_." It took him a moment to reply, almost too long, by Susan's standards, and eventually, she began to worry if she had pushed him too hard. But when he spoke, she allowed herself to relax.

"_Of course I am serious about you, Susan. You are a predominant factor in my life._" From a glance, his answer sounded like the answer to a mathematics question, but she knew from spending long months with the man, that this was just his way of speaking. In her book, this was the equivalent of him pledging his love for her. She smiled.

"That makes me so very happy, Philip."

* * *

><p><em>September, 1947<em>

By about four in the afternoon, Alexa walked up the five stairs that led to the deck of their small house of brown and grey brick. Bright, yellow flowers followed the path of the stone driveway, upon which a black, Citroën Traction Avant was stationed—a wedding present from Richard, who had shocked the young couple two weeks before the wedding when he had parked the car in front of Peter's parents' house, called out to Peter, and tossed him the keys.

"_Richard, what—" Peter started, but his old friend cut him off with a wave of his hand._

"_It's yours, Pete. Well, yours and Alexa's. You all need a car if you're going to be living in a nice house together. You can't ride off to your honeymoon in that ten-year-old, shoddy thing," said Richard. He glanced over to Peter's father, who stood in the doorway with his wife._

"_No offense, Mr. Pevensie," he added. John looked at the young man dubiously, but amused nonetheless._

"_Quite all right, Mr. Kingsley…" John trailed as he watched his eldest son, who shook his head while he approached his friend. But John also noticed the smile upon Peter's face as the two clasped hands._

"_Why though? This is your baby, this is _Chuck_. I know, I was there when you named it," said Peter._

"_Because, my friend," Richard began with a more diminished smile than his customary grin. "You need it more than I do…think of it as an early wedding present."_

_Peter couldn't have a better friend_, Alexa thought as she stopped at the front door, newly painted a plum color to complement the sandy-yellow walls of the outside. She filed through her purse for her keys, smiling in triumph when she finally found them, and unlocked the door. Upon entering the house, she let out a contented sigh at seeing the now familiar surroundings. To the right was the kitchen, the living room was through a door (painted a dark blue) to the left, and straight forward was a narrow corridor that led to three rooms: the first door on the left, which occupied the study room (where Peter did most of his work, and where Alexa did most of her reading and lesson plans); the master bedroom, which happened to be the first door to the right, and connected to the living room by a door on the far right of the bedroom; and lastly, the guest bedroom, which could be found down the hall, where the walls took a sharp path to the right (just after the mahogany door that led to the bathroom) and ended with the guest bedroom door. Alexa had completely memorized the setting within the first couple weeks of living there, and found that though it wasn't Cair Paravel, it was where she would always want to be, as long as her husband was by her side, and her family was close by.

_I wish my father could have seen this, seen the life I have now_, Alexa thought sadly. _I wish and regret many things from my past, but if there was anything I could change, it would be that he would have lived to see my friends, really my family, my wedding, my home, everything I used to take for granted while he was alive. _

"Alexa, are you there?"

"Yes, Peter, I just got here." she replied as she shrugged off her coat. Hanging it up on the nightstand, she listened for where his voice might be coming from.

_Sounds like the living area._

"I'm here in the living room…I need you to see something we just received in the mail." Alexa smiled and took off her shoes before making her way into the room, but her smile dropped when she saw Peter's solemn, and somewhat peeved, appearance.

"What's wrong?" she asked as sat beside him on a powdery blue couch. It was one piece of a set of three, gifted to them by Alexa's mother, which circled around a mahogany coffee table, all in front of a medium sized television set, which happened to be a wedding gift from Eustace and his family. In fact, most of the decoration and embellishments in their new home was given to them by family members, old friends, and the like.

"Susan sent us a letter, regarding her new engagement," Peter said in clipped tones. Alexa frowned as she noticed immediately how he attempted to retain his composure and reign in his apparent anger.

"_Engagement?_ To _Philip?_" she asked incredulously, taking the letter from Peter's hands, which were cold to the touch.

"Apparently…by the_ Mane_, my sister is an idiot."

"Peter, who are you to judge her? She could genuinely love him," Alexa admonished as she skimmed the papers in her hands.

"_No_, it is my _right_ as her older brother to judge whoever the _hell_ it is she decides to bring into the house," Peter declared loudly, and stood from his position on the couch. "I know for a _fact_ that she doesn't love him, just like I knew for a fact that she didn't love Rabadash. That's all this is, and that…that _boy_ hasn't 'stolen her heart' as she claims, she's probably just lonely, or has deluded herself into thinking she loves him because she's always around him." Alexa shook her head as she looked up at Peter, and she also stood.

"But what if she does?" she asked gently, and sighed, putting down the letter. She grasped his hands with hers, and cradled them against her chest. "Peter, it took me years of being constantly at your side to realize I never wanted to be parted from you. They've been nearly inseparable for, I think, over a year now. Susan wouldn't consent to something so serious unless she was absolutely sure."

Peter sighed, and slowly rested his forehead against hers.

"That would have been true of the old Susan…I just don't trust her anymore, Alexa. Things have changed, she has changed, everything has," he admitted quietly. It broke her heart to see him struggle, and it hurt as well that he spoke the truth of the woman who was once her sister. She felt the divide between them, especially now that they saw each other less and less. Perhaps it was time for a visit.

"You can talk to her about it, you know," she said. Peter straightened, and sighed once again.

"And how would I even _begin_ to talk to her? Say, 'sister, you're settling for a lesser man and are consequently ruining your life.' Because that will go _ever_ so well." Alexa rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Peter. You know better than that. Just be honest with her."

"I can't talk to her, I just can't…will you?"

"Me? Talk to your sister about her love life and her life choices?" Alexa asked. "We used to be able to talk for what seemed like forever, into the wee hours of the night. As of late, I feel the gap between us…" Peter used his left hand that he had freed from her grip to brush a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, and brush against her neck.

"Maybe it's time we paid my family a visit then. We know what's up with Susan. I wonder what it is Edmund, Lucy, and my parents are doing these days," he said.

"I'm sure Edmund is working hard at university, same thing for Lucy at school. Last time we talked on the phone she said her classes were harder this year, but she was doing well."

"I talked to Edmund yesterday, he said one of his professors was giving him a hard time, a Mr. Mariam or other. Sounded quite snooty by the description Ed gave me."

"Oh yeah, I think he told me something about him ruining his first year at university," said Alexa in amusement, who let go of Peter's hand so she could lower herself back down into the comfortable cushions of the sofa.

"What are you doing, sitting down?" Peter gestured widely to her prone form with his hands.

"…I was tired of standing, I've worked nine hours today."

"Aren't you going to call Susan?" Alexa threw herself back onto the couch and crossed her arms behind her head.

"Why are you always pressuring me to do your bidding? She's _your_ sister, you call her."

"But you're the one who's going to talk to her. And since when do I pressure _you?_"

"I thought we were going to visit your family in general," Alexa replied, but pointedly avoided Peter's question. It annoyed him, because he knew she did these things on purpose.

"We were, but it would be so much easier, not to mention faster, if you just met with her," Peter admitted, and searched for any space to sit on the now occupied couch.

"Yes, but we want to visit our family, Pete…what are you doing?" she asked with a grin.

"Looking for a place to sit on this damn couch, woman. You're taking up all the room."

"Hey, don't call it a 'damn couch,' your parents bought this for our living room. Considering I'm the only one who cleans up in here, the couch, and everything else in this room, is my property. And so, I have license to take up all the room on this couch I please," she said smugly. Peter tried his best to keep the grin off his face, but his mirth was read clearly in his eyes.

"Your property, eh? Well, what about me, what do I have?" he asked as he tried moving her legs over. She fought him off, slipping out of his grip.

"You have none." He reached for her again, but she slid further down the furniture so that her bare feet were firmly planted against the other end.

"I say, nay. The ring on your finger was my payment, and symbolizes the emptying of my pockets on your behalf. Therefore, you are my property." With this simple declaration, Peter gave up on making room, and slid behind her on the couch. He curled his right arm under her and around her stomach, while the other came to rest along her hip.

"I can live with that," she admitted with a smile, and shifted to lay more comfortably against him.

"I'm surprised this actually fits the two of us."

"The cushions are quite spacious."

"…I'm tired."

"I have tests to grade tonight."

"But this is nice…"

"It's not going to be fun, I know for a fact half of them didn't study."

"I could actually fall asleep here…"

"The map counts for fifty percent of the grade, and they're all rubbish at memorizing where countries and geographical landmarks are."

"Stop talking nonsense, woman. Let's take a nap."

"That sounds nice, actually…"

"Sleeeeep…"

"But we really shouldn't, it's already after five."

"Just for half an hour."

"I have to start making dinner."

"We'll eat later."

"I won't feel like cooking if I'm all groggy."

"I'll cook for you."

"…That's funny."

"Fine, I'll take you out to dinner."

"But I'll have to get all dressed up after being all groggy."

"You're so hard to please."

"I'd rather sleep better later than be lazy right now."

"I promise that I'll cook you a three-course meal if you just shut up, right now."

"…It better be good, is all I have to say."

"It shall, now hush."

"I'm serious. Don't let it get burnt like you usually do, or I'm not letting you take a shower with me."

"…I only live to serve."

* * *

><p><strong>Haha, I thought you all deserved a long chapter after how long I've been putting off this installment. Let me know what you all thought, I'd really appreciate it. More feedback makes me more motivated to get these out faster, and there should only be about three or four chapters left to go! I love you all!<strong>

—**E2189 **


	10. September, 1947 — September, 1948

**Well, there's not too much I can say about this chapter that I haven't already said. Things may be a little slow at first, but this is the beginning of the end, so to speak. I added a bit that was posted in the original **_**Hereafter **_**I had been working on last year (but I had to unfortunately delete), only people who have known me and my writing for a couple years will remember.**

**And I know we haven't seen much of Lucy in the last couple chapters, but I guarantee that she'll get some spotlight in this installment. Enjoy! **

_~Hereafter~_

Chapter Ten – September, 1947 — September, 1948

_Saturday, September, 1947_

_He saw a busy train station packed with people shuffling to their train, or getting to a seat to wait. He thought he glimpsed a familiar head of brunette curls dart in front of him before a white flash engulfed his vision, and a new scene took place. He saw a great green field covered in vegetation, an oasis further to the left, with tall trees and forest that covered the expanse. To the right appeared to be a grand city, filled with rows upon rows of tall houses set upon an inclining knoll. Their lights twinkled in the evening glow._

_It was a paradise that spanned as far as the eye could see and beyond, and was only separated by a dirt road cutting right through the forest floor. _

That's odd,_ Peter thought to himself. _Why would there be a road?

_He couldn't readily identify it, but the place held a certain familiarity. Like Narnia, a feeling of _belonging_, as if he had returned home. Though, there were no animals, no people, seemingly no civilization—save for the city._

_Peter turned to look behind him and found that a wide, black door had appeared. It faintly glowed with both a nefarious and chilling aura. Peter took a step back at the sheer magnitude of the dreary ambiance surrounding the door. _

Can doors have auras?_ he thought vaguely, even as he reached for its obsidian knob. But once his hand came about three inches from touching it, he heard a deep, rumbling hum that seemed to resonate throughout the field. He paused and withdrew slightly, but his curiosity quickly won over, and he began reaching for it again. The humming grew, as if in warning. Just when his hand was hovering millimeters over the knob, he heard an ear-shattering roar._

"Finally, Sleeping Beauty is awake, all hail the princess!" Edmund exclaimed with a smirk. Peter looked up at his brother and glared tiredly.

"Oh, shut up. Leave me to sleep in peace."

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to visit for the weekend. This is your complimentary wake up call, eight o'clock sharp." Peter rolled his eyes and sat up in the old bed his parents had yet to move from what was now Edmund's room (the two had once shared it before Peter moved out of the house).

"I hate mornings."

"Funny, Alexa said the same things when we woke her not fifteen minutes ago," Edmund quipped, his grin never lessening. Peter's brows shot up into his hairline.

"And she didn't try to bludgeon you?"

"With Susan's hairbrush, but that's beside the point."

"Now _that's_ the woman I married."

"_Edmund!_" A voice called from the hall.

"Well, got to go…actually, I think I may just hide under your bed for a moment," said Edmund. Peter chuckled and ran a hand through his already sleep-disheveled hair.

"She's going to find you," said Peter, even as he watched his brother scrambled under the furniture.

"Thank you for your vote of confidence," Edmund replied once he was securely hidden, though it was muffled to Peter's ears.

"_Ed, I_ know_ you're in there!_" said Alexa, who then opened the door to Edmund's room and stepped inside, wearing a fluffy green robe. It appeared hastily thrown on, the knot in the front not quite so evenly tied, and her hair was a mess of black tresses. Upon her face was an expression of triumph, but at seeing Peter alone on the bed, her grin fell.

"Morning, love," said Peter with a smile.

"It certainly is morning…early morning," she mused dryly. "I could have sworn I heard Edmund in here…"

"Here? I haven't seen him." Contrary to his words, Peter gestured downward with his eyes and an incline of his head. She met his gaze, and as an amused smile played upon her lips, she pointed downward—specifically below the bed—in question. Peter grinned and nodded affirmatively.

"Are you sure?" she asked, though she crept closer to the foot bed and reached downward without bending her knees. Edmund would be watching what was visible of her legs, so she had to be sly.

"I just woke up at hearing your shouting."

Her hand was mere inches away from reaching Edmund's feet, which were just visible from Alexa's vantage point.

"Really now? Well, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—_wake you!_" she said as she grabbed hold of Edmund's sock-clothed ankles and slid him out from under the bed, despite his protests. Peter helped Alexa carry the younger man onto the bed and pin him there; as Peter held Edmund's arms, Alexa sat on the legs of the latter.

"All right, I give up! Let me go!"

"Not a chance."

"Aw, come on, Alexa, you know you love me."

"Perhaps, but I trust you as far as I can throw you."

"With what? I already woke you up."

"He has a point, Alexa."

"…Fine."

With this, Alexa moved over so that she sat more comfortably on the bed, while Peter relinquished his hold on his brother, who rubbed his legs in relief.

"I was losing circulation."

"Oh, shut up, Ed," said Alexa.

"Funny, I said that just this morning," Peter remarked.

"It's still morning, you moron," Edmund replied.

"Maybe this time _I_ should sit on you."

"Oh, that's enough immaturity for today," said Alexa. "Ed, I never got a chance last night to ask you how things have been with university."

"Oh, yeah, you both got in rather late."

"We got a flat tire half way here, and couldn't get it towed for an hour," Peter said with a sigh.

"I remember now, you said that last night. Didn't some random guy have to come help you out?" asked Edmund.

"Yes, it turned out to be my boss, strangely enough," Alexa said dryly.

"Mr. Gatekeeper or other, right?" said Peter, who flippantly tried to remember the name of the man.

"Headmaster _Gates_," Alexa corrected with a giggle. "Though it might as well be _Crypt_-keeper, he's such a toad of a man. But anyway, Ed, you didn't answer my question."

"Oh, right. Well, things are going fine. The only teacher who gives me any grief is Dr. Merriman. This is my second year in a row that I've had to suffer him as a teacher."

"What is it that he does that you can't stand?" asked Peter.

"Well, it's how he assigns essays and grades them how _he _thinks they should be written, but doesn't give any indication of what he wants specifically before he grades," Edmund began. "It's how he gives hour and a half lectures, and expects us to remember every inconsequential thing he says, then answer impossible critical thinking questions based on his own philosophies of economics and business ventures…I could go on for hours."

"Sounds like Professor Epps. She used to work us like a slave driver—we always had a new essay or project due. And when we didn't, there was a quiz or test on two and three of the chapters in our textbooks," said Peter.

"Oh, I remember your horror stories, Pete. I can't believe I never had any teachers like that though, most of mine were pretty fair, some perhaps just a little tougher than others," said Alexa.

"Well, Dr. Merriman is the devil's advocate, I'm _telling_ you," Edmund assured. Both Peter and Alexa had to laugh at this, even as Edmund bore a pout that was most unbecoming.

"And how is Mina these days?" asked Alexa.

"Oh, yes, I've been meaning to ask you. Your last letter was insufficient, in my opinion," Peter remarked with a grin. Edmund rolled his eyes playfully.

"She's perfectly fine."

"Ed, you know what we meant," she said dryly.

"Well, if you must know…we're taking things slow," Edmund said with a long-suffering sigh.

"Really, you should be out of the house by now! And you're taking things slow," Peter exclaimed with a laugh.

"You're one to talk, Pete. You didn't move out of the house until you were twenty-one." Peter glanced at his wife, who shrugged.

"He has a point," she conceded.

"And, the two of you were tip-toeing around each other for nearly five years before you asked Alexa for permission to court her," added Edmund, who gave his brother a satisfied smirk. Peter sighed, but was forced to nod in agreement as he viewed the wry look Alexa threw him.

"It would have been longer if you hadn't snuck up on me in the library," said Alexa. At this, Edmund cringed.

"Say no more! I'd rather not hear your…intimate moments," he quipped. While Peter choked on a laugh, Alexa scoffed and cuffed Edmund in the shoulder, despite his begrudging yelp.

"It wasn't like that, really," said Alexa, who only made a short sideways glance at Peter. He was still chuckling to himself, shaking his head while patting his younger brother on the back.

"We really never told you that story? I could have sworn I was up for hours talking about it that night…" Alexa trailed as she wracked her brain for distant memories of living in Cair Paravel.

"I believe you were spending most of your time with my sisters, while I preferred not knowing the details," Edmund said with a small chuckle. "The only thing I needed to hear was that Peter finally wised up."

Peter rolled his eyes.

"Of course, I always get blamed for everything. She didn't know right away either!" he protested. Alexa stifled a laugh, and instead, patted his shoulder.

"He's right, I was rather clueless. But that doesn't mean you're allowed to be, Ed. If you've found someone, don't let her go," said Alexa.

"Trust me, I'm not. I'm just walking through it right now, what's the rush? Besides, it's not like I know what I'm doing," said Edmund.

"Doth my ears deceive me? My very own brother, expert in all things logical and scholarly, doesn't know what he's doing?" Peter teased.

"In my defense, women are much different than politics and philosophy," Edmund deadpanned, regarding his brother with a plain look. "And she's my friend as well, my best friend, actually."

"I thought _I_ was your best friend!" Alexa said with an expression of mock incredulity. Edmund rolled his eyes.

"No, you're my sister-in-law; therefore, you're family."

"Oh, so now I don't count because I'm family."

"Well, generally yes."

"I feel so loved."

"You should."

"Hey, what about me! After everything I've done for you?"

"You don't count either, Pete. Family, remember?"

"Whatever, go ahead. See if I care."

"Don't worry, I won't," Edmund said with a laugh, not being able to restrain himself. It was then that Lucy's head popped in through the doorway, followed by the rest of her as she entered the room.

"What are you all doing in here?" she asked with a smile.

"Just chatting. Come, sit with us," said Alexa.

"I've missed you guys," said Lucy as she drew closer. "How is living in the new house?"

"Can't complain. It's small, but homey. It reminds me a bit of Tumnus's little cottage, just…you know…bigger," Peter admitted with a shrug.

"Yes, of course," quipped Edmund. "It's small, but big at the same time."

"Oh, you know what I meant."

"Of course, dear," Alexa said, and smoothed a hand over his arm.

"But what about you, Lu? What's new at school?" Peter asked. Edmund's smile grew into a smirk at this, and Lucy, noticing, gave him a piercing look.

"Oh, just fine, considering—"

"Shut _up_, Ed!"

"Lucy, what's the problem?" asked Alexa. Though it wasn't uncommon for Lucy to begin threatening her brother with only facial expressions, for those looking on, it could be slightly disturbing.

"Nothing, Ed's just being a git."

"Well, _that's_ not unusual," Peter remarked as he grinned.

"Hey, it's not _me_ who's off gallivanting with her military man-to-be…" Edmund trailed, allowing himself yet another satisfied look of triumph at Lucy's embarrassed (and slightly fearful) expression, which was mostly in light of Peter's sudden rigidness.

"Now, Pete, it's not what he's making it out to be—"

"What boy?" he asked thinly. Alexa gazed over at him and squeezed his arm gently with the hand that still laid over his.

He only relaxed fractionally, but amended himself and asked, "What is his name?"

Lucy didn't want to meet his eyes. She knew if she ever told him about these things, this would be the predicted result.

_He's so overprotective_, she thought with an internal sigh.

"James, but he's merely a friend. _Nothing_ more," Lucy said as she glanced at Edmund pointedly.

"And what's this about him being a military man?" Alexa questioned with enthusiasm, as she was even lightly bobbing in her seat on the bed. Peter gave her a sharp look, which she deliberately ignored.

_It's not like this is her first time "fancying" someone…Peter's just going to have to deal with it_, she thought.

"Well, he plans to join the air force. His father died in the war, about three years ago, and it's only made him more passionate about joining right out of secondary school," she admitted as her tone grew more solemn. She saw Peter visibly relax a bit more, understanding and empathy shone in his expression. Peter, as well as the rest of them, remembered the pressures of nearly losing a loved one to the likes of destruction. This war only reinforced the fact, especially through John Pevensie's honorable discharge and Alexa's loss of her own father.

"Oh, Lu, that's…that's wonderful for him," said Alexa. She and her mother had only recently been notified of her father's death during the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. He had been on ground zero at the time of impact, and was within a mile's distance. It had only taken this long for the government's notice, because his troop shouldn't have been there in the first place. They had taken too long to clear out from the city before the nuke had been dropped.

So, in this respect, Alexa in particular had no mark against any man that wished to serve their country. Both her father and Peter's example had showed her as much.

"I caught them talking together when I went to Lucy's school to pick her up," Edmund added. He and Susan had come down to stay with their parents for the weekend while Peter and Alexa were also visiting. It was the first time in many months where all five of them were together under one roof.

"With the _rest of our friends_," Lucy explained, trying to pacify the growing look of unease in her eldest brother's eyes. "I swear, you're incorrigible."

"Happy to be of service," Edmund replied, with an imaginary tip of his "hat."

"Maybe we should all go to breakfast," Alexa suggested. "We all seem to finally be awake now."

"We'll be talking more of this later," Peter said as he gazed at Lucy pointedly. The statement boded no argument, but Alexa rolled her eyes all the same.

* * *

><p>In the end, Peter did forget about the conversation as the day played out; their father's car was in desperate need for a new guzzler, so he, Peter and Edmund went into town to buy a new one, along with any groceries needed for the house. This left Alexa, Susan, and Lucy to spend the day leisurely. They went for a stroll about the neighborhood, to the park, and by the nearby shops, all the while talking about what the others had missed in the past months they had been apart. By the end of the day, the three of them sat on the porch, exhausted but happily sipping cold lemonade in the shade.<p>

Susan spoke of school and professors, as what would be expected. But she also mentioned an internship she was offered from one of her professors.

"Susan, that's great!" said Alexa. "When do you start?"

"Well, I haven't accepted yet. I have until Monday to make a reply." Both Alexa and Lucy were a bit put back at this.

"Why would you hesitate?" asked Lucy.

"Oh, it's a great opportunity, for sure. I'm just not sure if this is best for me…it will probably lead into a full-time job once I graduate…it's almost a guaranteed position."

"Su, that's even better!" said Alexa. "What's holding you back?"

"Well, what if a better one comes along and I feel too obligated to the first one to leave?" said Susan.

"Then you leave. Don't feel tied down to any place, because there's always someone willing to fill in yours," said Alexa.

"I suppose…"

"Look," began Lucy, "this could be the start of your career, and if ever you decide to get a new job, you're going to need work experience. Right?"

"Well, yes, you're right," Susan agreed. "You both are…I'll accept the internship when I see my professor on Monday."

"Good, but do you have a goal in mind for yourself, Su?" asked Lucy.

"My dream is to run my own treatment center as a psychologist for the mentally ill," Susan said, a bit wistful as she stared ahead of them for a moment. But coming out of her reverie, she took a sip of her drink. "But I know that's not a very likely goal for a woman, especially one about to be married…"

"Su, I've never known you to let anything get in the way of what you wanted," Alexa said. "I'm sure Philip will support you." Susan sighed and rolled her eyes.

"I'm not too sure about that. Men expect their women to be docile, to stay at home, and not to meddle into their affairs. They don't usually take to hardworking busybodies."

"Well, I have a career, and your brother doesn't feel threatened. He _encouraged_ me to do something I find worthwhile."

"Yes, but do you really think you're doing something worthwhile?" asked Susan. Alexa paused, quite taken aback. At her silence, the younger woman continued.

"Oh, come now, Alexa, be realistic. You're a schoolteacher. You mean to tell me that's all you ever wanted to be?" she asked.

"Well, no. But it's not like my life is over!" Alexa said with a laugh and a shake of her head. "And anyway, I don't have a calling to run my own business or anything of the sort. I'm happy with the quiet life I have." At this, Susan stood and turned to Alexa, appearing both frustrated and incredulous.

"Oh, nonsense. You don't have _any _ambition? You just want to stay in that little brown house forever?"

"_Susan!_" Lucy admonished as she hastily got up. But her sister paid her no heed, continuing in her rant.

"Never dreaming of anything more than babysitting children who treat you like dirt, a boss who walks all over you, and barely a penny to your name? That is not how I would ever want to live."

Alexa made no move to stand, nor was she entirely angry. She _was_ peeved at being belittled, and struggled to retain the biting remark on the tip of her tongue. She sensed there was something under the surface of Susan's anger. As such, she also tried to remain as even-tempered as she could to penetrate the meaning of the onslaught.

"Well, that may be one way to look at it. But you and I were always different in our tastes. I enjoy the quiet, simple life that Peter and I can share together. I don't need a busy career, because it doesn't interest me," Alexa said with a shrug. "Peter, on the other hand, is more like you. He thrives in an environment with people he can work with and talk to, and though your approaches are different, you like helping people."

Alexa paused and looked at Susan pointedly.

"You want to be a clinical psychologist? Well, I think that's a very good start."

For several seconds, there was silence between the three women. Susan ruminated over Alexa's words, and Alexa felt that she had said everything there was to say on the matter. Lucy was also pensive, for the conversation had struck a chord within her.

_What is it that I'm meant to do in my life? I don't want to be left at home like modern homemakers, but I'm not like Susan or Peter, or even Edmund who wants to be a lawyer. I've never given any serious thought to that kind of future, for in Narnia we had no need for it…I was content there…_Lucy's thought fell, as she was unsure of where it would take her. But she returned her attention back to the situation at hand when Susan spoke once more.

"I…I'm sorry, Alexa. I didn't mean to disparage you, I just…" She trailed and averted her gaze. She blinked fast as she felt the wells of tears in her eyes. "You're right. I'm not like you…we're different, and there's nothing wrong with that. I just don't want to end up like every other married woman…I don't want to be tied down."

Here Alexa stood and laid a hand on Susan's shoulder.

"Commitment doesn't have to be bondage, Su. If you love and respect each other, that won't happen," Alexa replied softly. "I can assure you, I don't feel 'tied down,' nor have I ever felt as such."

"But it will be difficult," Susan said.

"I didn't say it wouldn't be," Alexa said with a grin.

"That's with any relationship, I would imagine," Lucy added, laying a hand on Susan's other shoulder.

"I suppose you're both right. I'm sorry I snapped, but this has been weighing on my mind," said Susan.

"Never mind, Su. You should go in and wash up first, it looks like it's nearing sunset," said Lucy.

"You sure?" she asked.

"Yes, just don't use up all the warm water." Susan rolled her eyes, but she wore a smile as she left the two.

"I'm sorry, Alexa, that was most unbecoming of her," said Lucy, who sighed and sank into her chair.

"You don't have to apologize for your sister, she's going through a lot, I know," Alexa replied, though she also joined Lucy and sat in the chair beside her.

"Yes, I know…it's sort of hard to believe, Susan engaged."

"Peter likened it to the fiasco with Rabadash," Alexa admitted with a shake of her head. She rested her head on her hand, while her arm was propped on the arm of the chair.

"Dear, Aslan," Lucy murmured as she laughed.

"Do you think she loves him?" Alexa asked.

"I sorely hope so, but even I am not sure," Lucy confessed.

"I suppose you know not about Philip either?"

"He seems quite fond of her, not that he says as much. But he's wrapped around her finger and obeys her every whim. If that isn't dedication, I don't know what is," Lucy quipped. Alexa let out a laugh in response, which triggered Lucy's mirth as well. Soon, they needed extensive gulps of water to calm them down enough to continue their conversation.

"And what about you, Lu? I know we talked of this James fellow, but what's the real story behind that? I know you couldn't have been completely honest, Peter was still in the room," Alexa remarked.

"Well, I might have the desire for male companionship, but I feel like I'm so much more mature than they are…maybe that's because of my youth spent in Narnia. But at what age does a boy become a man, anyway?" Lucy asked with a flippant wave of a hand. She continued sipping her drink, even as Alexa scoffed.

"Perhaps a little of both," said Alexa. "He could be the most sensitive man alive, but if you punch him, he'll still pretend it didn't hurt, just because he wants to prove he's a 'manly man.'"

"…Peter has called himself a 'manly man,' hasn't he?"

"…Maybe."

"Oh, bless your soul, Alexa."

Alexa smirked.

"It is my lot, but I enjoy it for the most part."

* * *

><p>Peter and Alexa made their leave the next day, as did Edmund, for he had class early the next morning. Susan stayed behind. She didn't have a class until the afternoon. After watching her siblings leave, she ventured back up the stairs and into her room to retrieve the book she had been working on reading for school. She found in upon her vanity.<p>

_Now I remember, I left it there after I was done brushing my hair last night_, she thought.

She would have picked it up, but resting on the cover was a crème-colored envelope. On the back was written, _"Not to be opened until the time before dawn."_

"What on Earth?" Susan mumbled.

"_Su, could you come down here for a moment?_"

"Yes, Mum."

The letter was left, forgotten in the bottom drawer of the vanity.

* * *

><p><em>Monday, September, 1947<em>

"Pete! What the _hell_ are you _doing?_ That was the best part of the entire story!"

"Oh, calm down, it's not like this is _your_ manuscript."

"It might as well be with the amount of press I've put into this thing."

"I'm sure our client would disagree."

"Well, I represent our client, and I say you just violated our agreement!"

"Rich, that scene had nothing to do with the storyline. And it was a pointless sexual scene in which nothing was plausible, women are demeaned, and men are portrayed as brazen pigs."

"…Sounds right on the money to me."

Peter gave his friend a deadpanned look.

"Oh, fine. Do what you will. But I'm sure William isn't going to be too happy."

"_Mr. Tennant_ will be kissing my feet when I'm done finalizing it. Besides, he's already seen my edits," Peter corrected as continued typesetting. Richard leaned closer to the machine as he took in a large gulp of his coffee. Peter paused and rolled his eyes.

"All right, one, the last thing you need is more coffee. Two, that's why it better be decaf. Three, if you spill that coffee, it will be the last one you ever drink."

"Fine, fine, geez." Richard relented and moved away from the machine. "When are you going to be done? These last set of lines need to be arranged for printing."

"Just a few…more…seconds…and…done!" Peter stopped typing, and the moles fell into place.

"Why did you get set on typesetting duty anyway? I thought you just edited."

"Well, Tom called in sick, and there was no one else to fill in for him. Since I'm still considered the 'new recruit,' David sent me here."

"That ignorant fuck."

"Rich, you can get fired for that."

"Yeah? Who's going to tell him?"

"…How are you still working here?"

"I have you to bail me out, don't I?"

"That's right. And how I am still working here, I'll never know."

"Oh, lighten up. David's coming."

"_What?_"

"I said calm down, didn't I? Don't be such a twit."

"Why is he coming over here _now?_"

"He does things upon a whim. Last week he fired Margret to make room for a sofa."

"That makes me feel so much better, no doubt he's coming to check up on me."

"Well, at least try to look surprised when he comes in, just not too surprised or he'll think we were up to something we shouldn't be."

"I don't know how he would _ever_ get that idea."

It was then that David Schilling came from around the corner and approached the two.

"Oh, hello, Richard," said David, before he turned to Peter with a smile. "How are we doing, typesetter?"

"Just fine, David," Peter replied with a polite smile. Richard gestured at David behind the man's back, mouthing "_he's such a git_." Peter bit his lip to conceal his grin and focused his gaze on his boss.

"Good, I just need you to go a bit faster, the printers are getting antsy. But I appreciate you filling in here. I know this really isn't your job."

"Yes, I'll try my best, sir."

"Good man. And…you know what? I'm giving you a raise. This company needs more hard workers like you."

Peter's eyes widened significantly, and he stopped typing altogether.

"R-Really?" Peter asked incredulously. Richard's mouth dropped open in shock and appall as his gaze shifted between David's back and Peter.

"Did I…stammer, Peter?"

"No, sir. Thank you so much."

"None needed, I think you deserve it. Even if you don't, well, you can just continue trying to proving it, now can't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. That'll be all, good day to you." As David turned, Richard forced his face into a neutral expression, and nodded with a "good day to you, sir," as the man walked out. Once he was out of ear-shot, Richard began.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me! I've been here longer than you have, he's _never_ given me a raise!" Peter dusted off his hands, an overgrown grin on his face.

"No one gives tips to the idle hand, my friend. I just happen to be an overachiever with a good work ethic. And I _don't _drink coffee."

"Oh, come off it. You drink three cups just to get up in the morning, if Alexa doesn't half-drown you with a bucket of water first. And I am _not _idle, I happen to be a hardworking man."

"First off, Alexa would never do such a thing. Second—"

"Oh, shut your trap."

* * *

><p>Upon entering the house, Peter was greeted with the smells of fresh cooking. He inhaled the lovely smell with a smile, and took off his coat.<p>

"_Peter, I'm glad you're home! We got a letter today from Professor Kirke reminding us of his gathering on the 18__th__ of September._"

He was sure she was calling from the kitchen, her voice echoed off the walls somewhat.

"That's great! I have news for you as well," he said as he hung the coat on the hanger that stood by the door. He walked into the kitchen and viewed his wife serving a large spoonful of mashed potatoes on a plate.

"Really? Did something happen at the printing press today? I know Mr. Schilling stuck you on typesetting duty."

Peter took the spoon from her hand and set in back in the bowl of potatoes. He snaked his arms about Alexa's waist and kissed her soundly. She was unprepared for the sudden contact, but reacted quickly by sliding her arms tightly around his neck. By the time he released her, Alexa's face was quite flushed, though Peter was grinning from ear to ear.

"I suppose it's something good then," Alexa said slowly as her fingers played with his collar.

"I've been given a most generous raise for my hard work, and for going above and beyond my station," said Peter. Alexa's eyes widened as she smiled in delight.

"Oh, Peter, that's fantastic!"

"Richard was there, he almost had a coronary."

She laughed fully, a sound which pleased him greater than any amount of money could have.

"I made you dinner. I knew you would be tired," she said, once her mirth had died down. Peter smirked.

"Well, I'm not _that _tired."

Alexa smiled.

"Really now? I'm _so_ surprised—_eep!_" She jumped as she felt her bum being pinched lightly. Unfortunately she jumped forward, making Peter take a couple steps back. His other hand flew out behind him looking for something to balance against—into the bowl of potatoes. They both paused and looked to his hand, now submerged in creamy fluff.

"Well, I hope your hands were clean," she said.

"Nope," he replied. Quickly, he took out his hand from the bowl and brought it to Alexa's cheek. She started at the impact and blinked rapidly in surprise. She looked up at Peter, who was already laughing. Alexa grabbed his hand and scooped the mash from the side of her face, and using his own hand, slapped the middle of his face.

He stopped laughing.

She ran into the shower.

He followed.

The meal was left for much, much later in the evening.

* * *

><p><em>September 18, 1947<em>

For the first time, three of the Pevensie siblings, Alexa, Eustace, and Jill met Miss Polly Plummer at the gathering of what became known as the "friends of Narnia." By now, she was an elderly woman of Professor Kirke's age, but a kindly woman who wore her silvery hair long and plaited, and a smile which spoke of the beauty she possessed in her youth, yet still retained much of in age. She encouraged all of them besides the Professor to address her as "Polly," rather than "Miss Plummer" or "Miss Polly."

"I have no children or grandchildren to speak of, but I enjoy children nonetheless," she confessed. It was easy to like Polly Plummer, even if the rest of them weren't such children anymore. They spoke in depth of the adventure she and Professor Kirke had when they were children, "before our dear Professor ever was a professor," as Polly had put it.

"Those rings turned out to be the best and worst thing my uncle ever created," said Professor Kirke.

"How so, sir?" asked Peter. "I mean, it's obvious how they were the best, but how so the worst?"

"Because of my foolishness, I let a most evil creature escape into Narnia, but for that, I paved the way for those who would help right that which was made wrong," he said, and made a pointed look at the Pevensie's, whose eyes widened in comprehension. "_And as Adam's race has done the harm, Adam's race shall help to heal it_, Aslan once told me."

"And the apple that became the great tree…I remember you telling us that you had it made into a wardrobe when a storm knocked it over," said Edmund.

"Yes, which also must have been when the Great Tree died by the Witch's hand," Polly added.

"Most likely, yes. I still have it here with me. I would rather have it in a solitary room, but this house is much too small for such a thing. I've saved it in my study."

"You still have one of those?" Polly asked in amusement.

"Of course. A man needs his study," said the Professor, who then took a long drag of his pipe.

"Whatever for? You don't work," she replied. He gave her a cursory glance before adjusting his spectacles.

"I need a place to store my books, maps, and other such things."

"Do you ever receive visitors, besides us?"

"Excuse me, madam, what business is it of yours if I have visitors?"

"It's only a simple question, Digory. No need to get ruffled."

"Oh, that's very good," he nodded and smiled wryly. "'Ruffled,' very good."

All the while, the others viewed the scene in both amusement and wonder.

"They act just like an old couple," Alexa whispered to Lucy.

"They remind me of Mr. and Mrs. Beaver," she replied.

"Quite right, you are."

"Why don't you invite me over more often, Digory? You wound me with your negligence."

"Confound it, woman, you live miles away and you don't drive! What do you want _me_ to do about it?"

"You could at least visit me, or hail a cab for me once in a while."

"I honestly don't know why I would bother. I don't need the incessant belittling."

"Poppycock, you're just a recluse. Now I see I'm the one who's going to have to make the effort to keep in contact around here."

"Fine, fine, but don't expect me to be in if you don't phone me before you come."

"Why would you be out? You apparently don't make house calls."

"I don't know why I even bother talking to you if all I get is grief and insult."

Peter turned to Edmund and Eustace and whispered, "I don't how many times a year we're going to do this, but I have a feeling we'll never be bored."

* * *

><p><em>December, 1947<em>

In the wee hours of the morning, before dawn was yet lit, Alexa found herself rummaging in the bathroom with a lit candle. She opened a cabinet, and cringed as a bottle fell out and hit the edge of the sink, then clattered to the floor. Already she could hear the bed shift in the other room. Peter was a notoriously light sleeper, but even this was ridiculously loud.

"What was that?" he asked sleepily.

"I'm sorry, love. Something fell, but it's nothing. I've got it."

"What are you doing in there?"

"Nothing, just checking something."

"Well…I sleep better when you're next to me."

Alexa smiled to herself at his admission, but her smile grew more as she realized something particularly important…

* * *

><p>It just so happened that the Professor planned to meet every other month on the weekend near the 18th day, for no other particular reason other than it seemed to be the best weekend to plan on in which all were present. Especially in late December, when Peter and Alexa called for an early gathering, this time at their own little, brown house. None were given a reason, other than it would be a special occasion. They arrived by one in the afternoon, all very curious. And it was more than just the "friends of Narnia," as Susan and Peter's parents were there as well, along with Mary.<p>

There was food, dancing, storytelling by the fire, hot chocolate, but still, the reason for the gathering was still left unsaid. The problem was, no one could hold either one of them down for more than a few seconds if one merely mentioned the gathering. Within a few moments they would be gone to refill drinks, or change the song on the record. It remained quite the mystery, until Edmund had quite had enough.

He found Alexa chatting with her mother by the fireplace, and lifted her bridal style into the kitchen (despite her protests), where Peter was pouring John a drink.

"If you want to retrieve your woman, come to the living room," said Edmund, who wasted no time in walking away from Peter into the living room, where most of everyone had gathered. Turning, he saw Peter trailing behind him, who wore an amused expression, but concerned all the same.

_Concerned, why would he be concerned? _he thought.

"All right, Ed, you've proved your point. Put me down," said Alexa, who clung to her brother-in-law for dear life. He set her down, but still wouldn't let either of the two leave the room.

"Now, I think we all have the right to know what's going on. We know you're hiding something," Edmund accused, but he smirked all the same.

"Yes, what is this about, son?" asked John. Peter glanced at Alexa and took her hand before speaking.

"All right, fine. We didn't want to make a huge deal about it. We just wanted everyone here when we said anything, so that we wouldn't have family members banging down our door in the middle of the night asking why we hadn't told them sooner."

"Well…what is it?" asked Lucy. Peter and Alexa shared another glance before the latter continued.

"We just wanted to say that…well, I'm pregnant." For a moment, there was silence. And then…

"Aga—" Lucy elbowed Edmund discreetly before he could utter the word.

But there was rejoicing that night, and even after everyone had left, the couple stayed up and sat on the ground of the living room. They warmed by the fire as they leaned against the couch. Peter toyed with a stray curl of her hair as she lay against his chest.

"You found out a while ago, didn't you?"

"I was suspicious after I figured out I was late."

"That makes sense."

"Do you think we're ready?" she asked quietly. Peter took in a long breath, and then nodded.

"I think so. Why not? We're not getting any younger."

"Well, it's just…" Peter paused, and looked down at her.

"I know your thoughts dwell on Garrett…but we can't afford to live in fear of the past…you know I know this best."

"I know, but do you think he's watching us?"

"Perhaps..."

"I think so."

"Don't use that to judge yourself though."

"I can't help it, Peter." She looked up at him with tears unshed in her eyes. He cupped her cheek with his hand and brushed away the few tears that escaped.

"I still feel guilty, and...I still miss him...so very much."

"You know I do too, but…we can't let our grief dictate the rest of our lives," he said softly, though he tried to give her a smile.

"Ever the practical one," she whispered with a sniff.

"Eh, not always."

* * *

><p>By February of 1948, the headmaster of Alexa's school gave her another few months' leave, until she was ready to come back. Alexa wasn't sure she would. Something Susan said before had clung to her, and even though she loved the students, Alexa still wanted to be there in the beginning years to take care of her child. Because of Peter's raise, such a thing could be made possible. And by September 18th, Alexa was in labor.<p>

The father, exhausted, disheveled, but triumphant, entered the waiting room of anticipating friends and family.

"So?" asked Edmund, who rested a hand to steady his brother (he looked as if he was going to topple over from fatigue). "Boy or girl?"

Peter smiled then.

"I have a son."


	11. October, 1949

**We're nearing the end here people. Just one more chapter after this! I'm not sure how long it's going to be, but we'll see when we get to the end, shall we? **

**I apologize in advance if there are things from the book I haven't included, but I've done my best to mention the most important things. I would rather not rewrite an entire book (never mind that I've done it twice already, shh!). **

**Disclaimer: Direct quotes from **_**The Last Battle **_**are set in pure italics. **

**WARNING: If you have not read **_**The Last Battle**_**, then be prepared for MAJOR spoilers. I would actually suggest reading the book beforehand. It's only about two hundred pages, and is, I think, the shortest of the series.**

* * *

><p><em>~Hereafter~<em>

Chapter Eleven – October, 1949

_Early October, 1949_

Light filtered through the half-open window and shone in strips over blue birds and jumping sheep and teddy bears; all three of which circled one another above a wooden crib. Tiny fingers reached out openly, then enclosed upon one larger. When the connecting hand flexed, the one much smaller clung stubbornly with a stronger grasp, accompanied by a sound of what could be construed as indignation.

"He has a tight grip, doesn't he?" Edmund remarked as he played gently with the little fingers holding onto his.

"Of course he does, he's _my_ son after all," Peter replied with a proud look upon his face.

"Being overly smug already, Pete?" Lucy quipped from her position on a wooden rocking chair. She was folding sheets while Edmund sat watching the newborn in his cradle. The two were visiting, helping Peter around the house while Alexa continued to rest.

"It's only been a year and already you're gloating about all of his achievements." Peter grinned as he worked on repairing a lampshade made of a beige cloth, but had singing bluebirds stitched in the middle. It only needed to be fixed on top of the light blue base.

"What, jealous that you're already an old maid?" Edmund couldn't contain the amused chortle that escaped after Peter's words, but he graciously resisted the urge to point and laugh at Lucy's incensed expression.

"You kind of do look like a spinster with that old flower apron on," said Edmund. Lucy glanced down at her stained and faded apparel before glaring at her brothers.

"This happens to be Alexa's, not mine. And as for _you_," she said, making a pointed glance at the eldest. "I'm only single because you chase away every man who has ever come to call."

"Damn right," said Peter with a nod.

"You know your child is in the room," said Edmund.

"He's young, he won't remember."

"Be that as it may, she does have a point, Pete."

"What men? I remember no such thing."

"More like you've chosen to forget," Lucy mumbled.

"He does as it suits him," Edmund whispered to her in agreement.

"Well, what about you, Ed? When are you going to make an honest woman out of Mina?" Peter asked. When Edmund seemed to flush and turn immediately back to the infant, brother and sister shared a knowing look.

"You know, you're not getting any younger," Lucy drawled. When Edmund refused to acknowledge her, she gazed at the back of his head with narrowed eyes.

"For goodness sake, Ed, you're twenty years old. It's your last year of university; find a job and buy a house, like Peter did."

"You make it sound so simple," Peter said dryly.

"My point exactly," Edmund muttered.

"Well, so what if you need to live here for a while until you both get on your feet? There's plenty of room here," said Lucy.

"I couldn't do that to Mum and Dad," said Edmund with a shake of his head. He dismissed the thought as he shook a rattle lightly above the child's head.

"So you admit you've thought about it," said Peter with a knowing grin. Edmund rolled his eyes.

"Of course I have, but I just don't think we're ready for that kind of commitment."

"Well, there are just two questions you have to answer," Peter reasoned.

"And what, pray tell, would those be?" Edmund asked wryly. It was then that Peter's expression quickly became solemn, diminishing the light tone of the conversation.

"Do you love her?" Edmund was caught off guard by the question, and simply stared at his brother blankly.

"I…"

"_Do you care for me, Ed?" she asked. The two lay at the base of the tree, supposedly viewing the stars, though neither of them could pay attention to the glittering sky above. Edmund glanced downward at the girl resting upon his chest._

"_Of course I do. If I didn't, why would I be here?"_

"_True enough. I don't know why, the question was in my mind." Edmund didn't reply, but simply rolled his eyes playfully. He had given up understanding her antics years ago, but they amused him nonetheless. _

"_Have I ever told you that I love stars?" she asked._

"_Yes, I believe you mentioned it." It was why they were there in the park in the first place._

"_Have I ever told you why?" He thought for a moment._

"_Why no, I don't believe so."_

"_It may sound illogical, but I like to imagine that stars are not as far away as we like to believe. I like to imagine something beautiful as stars, as really a race of exquisite people, dressed in clothing of brilliant whites and blues," said Mina. She paused and intertwined Edmund's hand in hers, then pointed to a group of stars that could be seen between the branches of the tree._

"_They would light the way for weary travelers in the night, and sing lullaby's carried on the wind to give them peaceful dreams."_

"_That's quite imaginative," said Edmund. "Was it a dream of yours?"_

"_Yes, when I was a child my family relocated constantly. My father's work as a trader kept us moving. Sometimes I would look out my window and watch the sky; the one thing that remained constant," Mina admitted. "Always beautiful, no matter what stars glittered in the evening light."_

"_That's very poetic of you," he said. Though he couldn't help be reminded of how close to the truth her imaginings truly were, as he had gathered from Eustace and Jill that their old friend, King Caspian had indeed married a lovely star. _

"_I too, have always had a fondness for the evening lights…they remind me of a place I once knew," he added. "As well as people I have known."_

And still know_, he thought to himself._

"To the glistening Eastern Sea, I give you Queen Lucy, the Valiant."

"To the great Western Wood, I give you King Edmund, the Just."

"To the radiant Southern Sun, I give you Queen Susan, the Gentle."

"To the shining stars above, I give you Queen Alexa, the Courageous."

"And to the clear Northern Sky, I give you High King Peter, the Magnificent."

_Mina sat up enough to turn and regard Edmund's expression, both wistful and grim. She ghosted her fingers along the side of his face, just over his cheekbone and also along his jawline._

"_But such sadness as well. I can see it here, in your eyes," she whispered. He blinked and his expression turned blank. Her frown deepened._

"_Why do you do that?" she asked._

"_Do what?" he asked._

"That_. Guard your emotions like that. You can't hide from me, Edmund," she said bluntly. And he realized with a pang that she was right. She had always been right. And she could read him like an open book. _

"_What memories trouble you?" she asked. _

"Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen. May your wisdom guide us until the stars fall from the heavens."

_If it had been anything else, he would have told her. Anything else at all. _

_He slowly sat up and grasped her shoulders, and eventually, he rested his forehead upon her shoulder. Her arms came to wrap about him, a comfort for which he was deeply grateful for. _

"_One day, I will tell you. I swear that I will. Just…please…don't press me tonight…they are bittersweet memories."_  
>Memories that I will always cherish, but ones that I will carry for my entire life.<p>

"_I will look forward to that day, then…I will wait for it, by your side, if you will let me," she confessed, and her voice shook with the amount of emotion and sincerity held within. _

"…_Why?" he asked plainly._

Why would she want to stay with _me_, of all people? Why me?

"_Because…" When she trailed, he slowly rose from her shoulder to lock their gazes. He wanted the truth, and he wanted to read it in her eyes._

"_Because I…I…" She bit her lip then, but she didn't allow herself to look away from him, even as he inched closer._

"…_I…I love you." And even as his lips closed upon hers, he couldn't help but smile as a warmth filled him, one that he had never quite known as of yet. As his hand fisted into her hair and curled around her waist, he deepened the kiss, continuing until he was drained of breath. He didn't want to live without this. _Couldn't_ live without her. Her smile. Her questions. Her imagination. Her dreams. Her _love_. _

_He was content. He could even dare say that he was happy. He would be _happiest_, however, with Mina Lewis._

_When he pulled away, he trailed slow kisses along her cheek and jawline until reaching her ear, where he whispered._

"_I—"_

"—love her." Peter nodded, satisfied, while Lucy's eyes softened as she regarded her brother. In light of his confession, she saw the sobriety in his deportment…and none of the mischievousness he held as a child.

_He truly has become a man_, she thought. _A man in love, as hard as it may be to conceive the idea._

"And…does she make you truly happy?" Peter continued. Edmund let out a short chuckle.

"…Why, yes. She truly does."

"If she does as well, then there is nothing to stop you."

"Perhaps you're right…after all, I'm not getting any younger, am I?"

* * *

><p>By the 18th of October, Alexa and Peter had recovered enough energy through sleep to travel to the countryside, this time accompanied by their son, William, whom was held in a carrier as they ascended the short amount of steps to the modest house. As what might have been expected, the babe was the topic of discussion for a short amount of time. They talked of the preparations that had been needed for the couple's home, such as the nursery, and other such things.<p>

"It's taken time to adjust to short amounts of sleep again," Peter said wryly. "But he's much quieter than Garrett was."

"Yes, that's true," Alexa reflected. "And William isn't as finicky."

"But with a cast iron grip," Edmund muttered.

"I remember Garrett had that too," Peter said wistfully. Polly sighed.

"I wish I could have had children. I find them quite lovely," she said.

"Too much hassle, the lot of them," Professor Kirke remarked.

"Is that what you thought of us, Professor?" Lucy asked with a grin. He gave Lucy a hesitant, sideways glance, and suddenly appeared a bit flustered.

"Well, perhaps not all children. You six are the exception, merely because Aslan has opened your eyes."

"That _has_ to be the only reason," Edmund agreed sardonically.

"Be that as it may," the Professor continued. "It's a good thing you all are here today, especially you two." He directed the last bit to the two youngest members, Jill and Eustace.

"Why do you say so, Professor?" asked Alexa.

"I just have a feeling we're all meant to be gathered here today, a good feeling," he assured. "Nothing to worry about."

"Well, supper is ready everyone. Peter, dear, would you like some wine? And you, Edmund, or Alexa? I know Digory will," said Polly. Peter accepted with a, "yes, please, 'Ma'am,'" while Edmund and Alexa graciously declined. The others were yet too young for wine, and so settled with water and a lemon. They had just about finished their meal when Peter glanced over at his brother across the table. He sat staring blankly at the wall in front of him, absently spearing his salad.

"What's the matter, Ed?" he leaned forward and whispered. For a moment, it seemed as if he had not heard Peter. But when he kicked the younger man's foot under the table, his attention was firmly grabbed.

"Huh, what?" Edmund asked.

"What's the matter? You've been staring into space for the past five minutes."

"Nothing, just thinking."

"About what, pray tell?"

"Just things…you know, I went into the city the other day." This managed to pique Peter's interest enough to inquire after it.

"Really? Did you buy something?"

"Well, yes…I think you'll be proud of me…"

"What did you get?"

"I—" It was then that the shocked screams of the younger women in the room alerted the two out of their conversation. For before the round table they sat at was a figure, ghostly white in appearance, and somewhat transparent. From what Peter could tell, it was a man, stately, though his attire spoke of a nobleman, it was dirty and haggard. He heard more than saw Professor Kirke spill his wine glass on the floor, while another took a sharp breath inward. Alexa, who sat beside him, grabbed his arm in support. He held her hand tightly, but directly addressed the figure.

"_Speak, if you're not a phantom or a dream._ You have a Narnian look about you and we are the friends of Narnia," he said firmly. When the man did nothing but open and close his mouth several times, he let go of Alexa to fully stand.

"_Shadow or spirit, whatever you are,_" he said, and locked gazes with the man. "_If you are from Narnia, I charge you in the name of Aslan, speak to me. I am Peter the High King._" It was only then that the silvery image began to blur and distort, and then all in the room began speaking at once.

"_Look! It's fading,_" said Alexa.

"_It's melting away_," Polly lamented.

"_It's vanishing!_"

"What in Aslan's name was that?" asked Edmund.

"Whoever he was, he was definitely from Narnia," said Lucy.

"Something must be wrong," said the Professor.

"But what can we do?" asked Peter. "The five of us have spent our time—"

"Yes, you five have. But not these two." Professor Kirke nodded at Eustace and Jill.

"But, however will we get there on our own?" asked Eustace. It was then that the Professor became pensive.

"Digory, you don't think…" Polly trailed and shared a look with the elderly professor.

"I think it's time for a trip to London," he said.

"What's in London?" asked Jill.

"Two very special Rings, used long ago to bridge the gap between this world, and all other worlds, including, at the time, the newly created Narnia," he explained.

"The Rings your uncle made," Peter confirmed. "And they are in London?"

* * *

><p>"What the hell are we doing, Pete?"<p>

"Shut up and put on your jumpsuit."

"I look like I'm going to jail."  
>"You look like a workman. Now shut up, it's early in the morning."<p>

"I don't think this is going to work, Pete."

"Just follow me and keep quiet. We need to slip into the garden with these shovels somehow…here's the fence…here, give me a boost."

"But—"

"God damn it, Ed, just give me a boost!"

"But the gate is unlocked." Peter glanced over and saw that the gate was indeed, unlocked.

"All right, let's go. But we need to hurry."

The two snuck into the backyard of the old house that once belonged to Polly Plummer's parents. Immediately they began digging up plants and grass and soil. It took them nearly two hours to finally find a small, metal box within the dirt, replace the soil into the respective holes, and leave the premises unseen.

That night, Peter sent Professor Kirke a wire.

"_Did you fine them?_"

"Yes, we'll meet you all at the train station."

* * *

><p>The following morning, Peter and Edmund made their way to the train station where Alexa and William were waiting for them. The four waited for Jill and Eustace, who had school this morning, but were to receive the Rings from them after getting off the train. From what the Professor had told Peter, he, Polly, and Lucy were accompanying them on the train; Lucy, so that she may return home, and Polly and Professor Kirke so that they may stay with Peter and Alexa in their home for a couple of days.<p>

"How's Will?" Peter asked Alexa when they were settled on a bench in the waiting area.

"He's fine, a little fidgety though. He doesn't like the sounds of the station," she replied, and fixed the blanket in the child's carrier.

"Well, the train should be here any minute," said Peter. "You know, Mum said something about her and Dad taking a trip to Bristol today. I wonder if they're going by cab or train."

"It will most likely be by train, Pete. Actually, most likely this train, now that I think of it…"

"Oh, by the way, Edmund, you do have the Rings in your pocket, right?"

"Yes, they're right here, where they've been for the past few hours," he replied dryly. He then paused, and regarded his brother pensively.

"You know, Pete. Speaking of rings, I…" Edmund trailed as he patted the pockets of his jacket, and then his pants. Peter and Alexa watched him with concern.

"What's wrong?" Alexa asked. Edmund continued patting his clothes down until he relaxed in his seat.

"I was going to show you something I bought, but I think I left it on my desk at Dad's house. It's all right, I'll show you another time, I guess," he said. Edmund then looked up and saw bright, yellow headlights approaching.

"Oh, there's the train," he said. But the headlights…they were coming in very fast.

"Well, come on then. Let's go," said Peter. He and Alexa stood up and traveled closer to the incoming train, followed closely by Edmund, who still had a churning feeling in the bottom of his stomach. Just as he saw the train come in around the corner, it made a screeching sound and a sharp jerk toward them before all was cased in darkness.

* * *

><p>"<em>Thou hast called me into Narnia, Rishda Tarkaan. Here I am. What hast thou to say?<em>" A great creature stood before a cowering Calormene captain, a creature which had a vulture's head and four arms; its curved, cruel beak was open while its eyes blazed, and its twenty fingers had long, pointed claws. Within a moment, the creature, known as Tash, the god of the Calormen, pounced on the captain and snatched up its prey. Then, turning its bird-like head to the side, King Tirian of Narnia became in view within the small stable.

The man was indeed our "ghost" from before, but at this time, it was the King who had bravely attempted to save Narnia, along with Eustace and Jill (more on that later), against the forces of the Calormen, a greedy ape, and a very dimwitted donkey.

Just as the vile creature's obsidian eye focused on King Tirian, a voice spoke.

"_Begone, Monster, and take your lawful prey to your own place: in the name of Aslan and Aslan's great Father the Emperor-over-the-Sea._" Only then did Tash vanish with the Tarkaan in a plume of inky, black smoke.

Tirian turned to see who had spoken, and so found not only the two Kings and two of the three Queens of Old restored to their former glory, a babe wrapped in the arms of one of them, but also Jill and Eustace, and who he as a Narnian had recognized as Lord Digory and Lady Polly.

"_Sire,_" said Jill, who came before him and made a lovely curtsey. "_Let me make you known to Peter the High King over all Kings in Narnia._"

It was after King Tirian has been made acquaintance to all the Kings and Queens, as well as the Lord and Lady who no longer gray and aged, but were again vibrant and youthful, that Eustace asked Peter how he had come to be in this place, since they had not had to come through the Stable within Narnia. The area around them was a field of sorts, with the greenest grass that ever could be seen, and a great, cloudless blue sky above. There were trees with strange, yet beautiful fruit all around, and a light wind which added to what seemed to be a beautiful summer's day.

"Well, there's not much to tell. Edmund, Alexa and I were waiting for your train to come in…I remember it coming rather fast around the bend, but after that, it's hard to describe," said Peter.

"Not too hard, actually," said Edmund. "It wasn't like the first time we were pulled in by Magic at the train station, but I heard a frightful roar…and then, in the darkness, something hit me hard with a pang, but it didn't hurt…"

"Not so hard to explain, huh?" Alexa asked wryly, but her playful grin gave her away. She shifted her hold on the child in her arms, and Peter beside her laid a supporting hand on her lower back.

"It's true, though. It really didn't hurt, and by that point I wasn't so much scared as excited," Edmund said with a smile. "Then I felt very light, and well, then we were here."

"I strained my knee a bit while we were digging in that garden, and it was feeling a bit sore this morning. But once we arrived here, the feeling disappeared altogether," Peter added.

"And what has been happening in the meantime?" asked Eustace.

"Well, for what seemed like a long time, nothing happened. But then the door opened—"

"A door?" asked Tirian.

"Yes, the door you came in—or out—by. Forgotten, have you?" said Peter.

"I don't see a door."

"Over there, look." Peter pointed behind them to the left, where Tirian, Eustace and Jill had entered from. There, in fact, was a door, rough and wooden, with no walls or roof to accompany it. Tirian walked around it, but found there was nothing on the other side but open air.

"Sir, this is quite a marvel," he admitted. "This _must _lead to the stable I and the Calormene came out of, right?"

"Look through it and see for yourself," urged the High King with a smile. The younger King obliged, and soon found that the door led to the forest of Lantern Waste, where it was still night, and Calormenes discussed around a bonfire of who should go in the stable and look for Rishda Tarkaan. Tirian backed away from the door then, a bewildered look on his face, and his friends began to laugh. Despite himself, he smiled and shook his head.

"It seems that the stable seen from within and from without are two different places," he said.

"Its inside is bigger than the outside," said Lord Digory.

"Yes," agreed Lucy, speaking for the first time. "_In our world too, a stable once had something inside it that was bigger than our whole world._"

Tirian turned to her, and realized that she had been silent before, only because she had still been taking in the wonders of this world they were now in; she was overjoyed to be here, to even speak. But he found himself wishing she would speak again…it was a lovely sound.

"If you would, Madam, please tell me your adventure here," he said with a smile. And she proceeded to tell of the Calormene who had come in, Rishda, who had stood by the door holding a blade and ready to ward off any who came near. He could neither see nor hear any of them, or the wonderful world around him, but then Tash appeared, sending the man cowering to the floor. A large Cat then also appeared, but ran off frightened right before Tash could pounce on it. It settled for Rishda Tarkaan.

"And after that…" Here Lucy shuddered and made a face that suggested she has seen something repulsive.

"After that, a monkey was flung through the door. And then Tash appeared again. What Lucy would rather not tell you is that with one peck, the monkey was gone. She's just too tender-hearted," said Edmund with a grin and a comforting pat on Lucy's shoulder.

"It serves him right," Eustace mumbled. "I hope he disagrees with Tash's digestion."

"After all of that, about twelve dwarves came through, then Jill and Eustace, and more recently, yourself," Edmund finished.

"I sincerely hope Tash ate all of the dwarves as well, the little swine," said Eustace disparagingly.

"Don't be horrid, Eustace," Lucy admonished. "They're still here. In fact, you can see them from here. I've tried to make friends, but I'm afraid it's no use."

"_Friends!_ Of all things, _friends_, is not how you want to associate yourself with them if you knew how they were acting," Eustace exclaimed.

"Oh, do stop, Eustace. Come and see them," said Lucy. "King Tirian, perhaps _you _could do something about them."

"I'm afraid I have no great love for dwarves today, but at your asking, Lady, I would do a greater thing than this," Tirian confessed. When Lucy blushed faintly and smiled, Peter could be seen with his eyes narrowed, viewing the King—whom they had been only recently acquainted—with a suspicious gaze…until he felt an elbow lightly (but _pointedly_) nudge his ribs. He looked over sharply to his left and found Alexa staring up at him, brow raised, but with an amused grin upon her face, nonetheless, as she held their sleeping child.

"What?" he asked sheepishly.

"Please don't start that here," she said bluntly with a playful roll of her eyes, and she brushed passed him without looking back.

Lucy lead them to the dwarves, who sat closely together in a circle, not simply having a rest or enjoying themselves. Not only could they not see the group of royalty, but they also could not see the grass, the sky, the trees, or even leave the pitch black "stable" they claimed they were trapped in. When Lucy tried to convince one of their true surrounding by holding up some beautiful purple flowers for him to smell, she had to dart back quickly to avoid being hit by the little dwarf.

"How dare you! Where do you get off shoving a lot of filthy litter in my face? Who are you? Show yourself!" shouted the dwarf. Peeved on the Queen's behalf, Tirian stepped up and spoke.

"She is Queen Lucy the Valiant, dwarf, sent here by Aslan Himself. _It is, for her sake alone that I, Tirian your lawful King, do not cut all your heads from your shoulders, proved and twice-proved traitors that you are._"

"Well, what do you know?" said the dwarf. "How _can_ you stand to go on like that, when you are tied up here as well as the rest of us? Your Lion hasn't come to rescue you, has He? And here you are trying to feed us more lies, that we're not in the dark, we're not shut up in here, and heaven else knows what."

"Oh, gosh, what are we to do for them?" asked Lucy, who shook her head as she watched the blind, diminutive creatures.

"Just leave them alone, then," said Eustace. But as soon as he spoke, the earth trembled and shook, the air around them grew lighter, sweeter somehow, and a bright light flashed behind them. They all turned, and found the Great Lion Himself before them. Tirian, because he was frightened, stayed behind while the others knelt before him and greeted him warmly with happy tears, some with laughing and rejoicing as He touched them with his tongue and greeted them in turn.

But then, He turned his amber eyes on Tirian, and he came near, even as he was trembling greatly, and flung himself at the Lion's feet. Aslan then kissed him and said, "_Well done, last of the Kings of Narnia who stood firm at the darkest hour._"  
>"Aslan, could you perhaps…could you do anything for these poor dwarves?" asked Lucy, who watched the pathetic group behind them with saddened and pitying eyes.<p>

"My Dear One, I will show you what I can do, and what I cannot," said the Lion, and He approached the circle of dwarves. He came very close to them, then growled a low growl, to which they passed off as a clever machine those "oppressing" them were using to try and frighten them. Aslan then raised His head and shook His mane, and brought a splendid feast before them. All they tasted were rotten cabbage, half eaten turnips, and weak-old hay, and while one rose a golden goblet of wine to his lips, the dwarf only tasted disgusting trough water a donkey had drank from. But at least, one said, they had not been taken in by anyone; _the dwarves were still for the dwarves_.

"You see, they will not let us help them because they have chosen cunning instead of belief," said Aslan. "Their prison is made of their own mind, and here, they will stay. But come, I have other works to be done."

He approached the Door, the rest of them following, and He raised His head and roared, "_Now it is time!_"

He roared louder.

"_Time!_"

Then louder still, that it could have shaken the moon and stars from the sky.

"_TIME!_"

And the Door flew open to Him.

They stood before Aslan on His right side as they looked out through the doorway.

All was cased in darkness, and one could hardly tell where the ground ended and the sky began. When Aslan roared once again, a darker patch to the left rose, higher and larger until it became a more pronounced figure of a man, who stood on the high moorlands leading up to the lands in the North, lands that the High King, his wife the Courageous Queen, and Eustace and Jill remembered well. And it was then that Eustace and Jill recalled the deep caves underneath those moors, where they had seen a great giant sleeping. They had been told then that his name was Father Time, only to be woken at the end of all things.

Though the two had not spoken, Aslan said, "Yes, while he was dreaming, his name was Time. Now that he has woken, he will have a new name."

The giant raised a horn to his mouth, made visible by the change in his black shape against the brightness of the stars. Eventually, they heard the sound of it—screeching and terrible, yet deadly beautiful. And then the stars fell. First a few, then dozens, and scores, and then hundreds and thousands, like silver rain onto the earth. Then starless patches of black began to emerge, slowly at first, until they combined at reached the center of the sky.

It was with a thrill of both wonder and horror that they all realized that the blackness in the sky was emptiness; Aslan was calling the stars home, and they fell all around them—glittering people with long, burning silver hair and electric-white spears. They made hissing noises as they landed on the ground past them, and burnt the grass beneath them as they did so. Because of their enormous light casting off through the Door and over Narnia, they could see every tree, every pond, and every blade of grass with its shadow. But Aslan held the greatest shadow, streaming to the left.

Up in the Northern Moors, they could see creatures stirring—dragons, giant lizards, terrible monsters with bat's wings, and other such animals venturing downward into Narnia. All at once they heard the sound of screams and wailing and rustling and the pitter patter of small feet to the large, lumbering paddle of paws and the thundering of bigger ones. Finally, out of the trees came creatures of all kinds—dwarves, satyrs, fauns, nymphs, Talking Beasts, Giants, Calormenes, people of Archenland, Monopods, and strange things from remote islands and unknown Western lands. They ran for their lives up and over the hill to the doorway where Aslan stood.

Either the Door had grown much larger, or the creatures had grown as small as insects, but one of two things happened when they approached Aslan: they either looked at him with fright and hatred (upon which they were sent to the left of the doorway. What became of them, none of the monarchs or children behind Aslan knew.), or looked upon Him with some amount of fear, but loved Him, and entered through the Door. Among the happy creatures surrounding Tirian and his friends were those he had thought to be dead, such as Roonwit the Centaur and Jewel the Unicorn among others.

"_Further in and higher up!_" exclaimed Roonwit, who galloped away to the West. Though they did not understand him right away, the words somehow set "butterflies" off within them.

Back within the doorway, the dragons and Giant Lizards could be seen, having Narnia to themselves. They wandered to and fro, tearing up trees from their limbs and depleting the forests, which soon began to disappear, along with the grass that died and browned. The whole country became bare, and the creatures there became old and died, until their flesh shriveled up and their bones lay bare in the dust. And then from the East came the water, high and foaming in a wall, until everything was covered, and rose up to the doorway. It never passed, but lapped at Aslan's feet, where the water met the sky.

And then a dreary, pale dawn came in the horizon, until the sun came into view, slowly turning red. Lord Digory and Lady Polly, having seen something like this once before in the Deplorable World, knew at once that the sun was dying, and both shared a glance. Its rays fell on the waters and made them appear as crimson blood, and the rays also fell on the moon (which also turned red). When the sun and moon merged, the rays then fell on the great Time-giant.

"_Now make an end,_" said Aslan, and the giant threw his horn into the sea. He reached out and grabbed the sun, squeezed as if you would a tomato, and then there was total darkness.

All save for Aslan had to jump back at the sudden cold that blew through the doorway, which creating icicles and a floor of ice around it.

"Peter, High King of Narnia, shut the Door," Aslan instructed. Peter, shivering with cold, reached out and closed the Door, which screeched over the ice. He pulled a golden key from his pocket, a key which he had no remembrance of having, and locked the Door.

Finally, all could relax and take in the world around them, bright and beautiful in the daytime. Aslan regarded them with king, laughing eyes, then crouched lower and shot away toward the West.

"Come! Further in and further up!" he called over His shoulder as he went. The rest followed Him at a walking pace, leisurely talking of old adventures while some mourned for the death of Narnia (namely Lucy, Polly, and even Lord Digory). Many were slowly moving the same way, but the grassy country was wide and beautiful and not the kind of place one needed to rush through at the moment.

"Peter, where do you suppose this is?" asked Lucy.

"I'm not sure…it reminds me of somewhere we've been, but could it be somewhere we went for a vacation when we were small?" he replied.

"It would have to have been a splendid holiday, because I'm sure there's nowhere like this on _our_ world," said Eustace.

"It's not Aslan's country?" Tirian asked.

"It looks like somewhere in Narnian world—look at those mountains over there ahead, and the ice-caps behind them," said Edmund.

"Yes, you're right, Ed. They look like the ones we used to see from Narnia, Westward beyond the Waterfall," said Alexa.

"They are bigger though," said Peter.

"And look there," said Lucy, pointing Southward to her left. "Those hills look like the Southern border of Narnia."

"Why, they're exactly alike! Look, there's Mount Pire, and the pass into Archenland and everything!" exclaimed Edmund.

"But it's not, really. They have more colors, and they're further away than I remember, and they're more…" Lucy trailed, trying to comprehend what exactly was going on.

"_More like the real thing,_" said Lord Digory. It was then that an eagle named Farsight, a friend of Tirian and Jill and Eustace that had helped them during their last adventure in the Old Narnia, flew above them and called out.

"My Kings and Queens, we have only begun to see where we are! From up here in the air I have seen it all—Ettinsmoor, Beaversdam, the Great River, and Cair Paravel. I see it still shining and standing on the edge of the Eastern Sea; Narnia is not dead, for this is the _real_ Narnia!"

"But how can that be? Aslan told us that we were never to return to Narnia," said Peter. "And here we stand."

"Yes, and we saw it all destroyed just now," said Edmund.

"It's all so different here too," said Lucy.

"The eagle is right," said the Lord Digory. "Peter, when Aslan said you could never go back to Narnia, he meant the one you were thinking of; a mortal Narnia with a beginning and an end. This is the real Narnia which has always been, and will always be. It's not unlike our world in England, which was only a copy of whatever Aslan has here in His country."

"So this means," Lady Polly began, "that you not need mourn for Narnia, Lucy. All of the Old Narnia that ever mattered, the ones you have known, have been drawn through the Door. Of course it will be different, _as waking life is from a dream._"

Then the Lord Digory, an old professor still within him, began muttering a bit to himself, saying, "_it's all in Plato, all in Plato: bless me, what do they teach them at these schools!_"

They older ones began laughing, because it was so like the Professor Kirke they had met all the time ago. He, knowing why they were laughing, joined in. But then, as they viewed their surroundings, they quieted again in solemnity. Though they were happy, there was a seriousness and silent contemplation that came with such happiness at one time or another. And it was then that Jewel the Unicorn summed up the crux of what they all were feeling.

"I have come home at last! This is my real country, and I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all of my life, though until now, I never knew it," began the unicorn. "_The reason why we all loved the Old Narnia so much is because it looked like this._ Come further up and further in!" He shook his mane and galloped ahead at a speed which would have taken him out of sight in a few moments in the regular world the rest were from (save Tirian). But then everyone else began to run, at a pace which was so astonishing, and everyone could keep up, never growing weary.

Farther and farther they ran, through rivers, over hills, and up mountains while exerting no energy, all the way until coming to a great wall of golden gates. They stopped and were hesitant to enter.

_Could that be made for me? _each one thought. _Surely not._

But while they were standing, a great horn blew from within the walled place, beautiful and sweet, and a mouse, bright-eyed and with a red feather stuck in a circlet about his head, padded out and came to them. While its left paw rested on his sword, he bowed an exquisite bow before them.

"Welcome, all, it Aslan's name. Come further up and further in," he said with a smile. Peter, Edmund, Lucy, and Alexa (though mindful she was of William) at once went forward and greeted the mouse.

"Reepicheep!" they all cried out. Tirian marveled at the scene, for he knew he was looking at a great hero of Narnia, but he didn't have much time to do as such as he was hugged and kissed on both his cheeks before greeted by a familiar voice.

"You are both thicker and taller since the last time I saw you," said his father, the good King Erlian. While Tirian accepted that this was his father and joyously embraced him, he remembered the man with a graying beard, but this was him, youthful and merry as when Tirian was a child.

As for the Lord Digory and Lady Polly, they were also received by an old friend; Fledge the winged stallion came to meet them at the gate, neighing and happy to see them.

It was a few minutes yet before Reepicheep encouraged them all further in again, and they all followed him inside and through the gates, into the delicious smell that wafted from the gardens and cool mixture of shadows and sunlight. They walked on springy turf that was lined on either side with brightly colored flowers, some familiar, some odd, and some so fantastically shaped and colored that one could hardly believe they were flowers at all. But then the newcomers were attacked on all sides by old friends and family they had not seen in years, perhaps decades.

To name a few, there was Glimfeather the Owl and Puddleglum the Marshwiggle, and King Rilian the Disenchanted, and his mother the Star's daughter and his great father Caspian himself. And close beside him were the Lord Drinian and Trumpkin the Dwarf, and Trufflehunter the Badger with Glenstorm the Centaur and a hundred other heroes from the great War of Deliverance (as the war between the Narnians and the Telmarines had been called).

When Peter had shook hands with King Caspian for the first time in years (for the High King that is—it had been a much longer while for Caspian), it was much of a shock for both. Not so much in the appearance of the two, but in the fact that both had grown larger families since they had last seen one another. Caspian introduced Peter to his wife, a lovely star with a quiet voice, but overall kind demeanor. And Peter and Alexa introduced the couple to their child, whom by now had woken, and was smiling at all the new faces that he was seeing with bright eyes.

"He's a lovely boy," Caspian said with a smile.

"Thank you, Caspian," said Peter, while Alexa gave him a bright smile. But it was not long after this that from another side came Cor the King of Archenland with his wife Queen Aravis and his father King Lune and the brave Prince Corin-Thunderfist, his brother. And then—to the Pevensies extreme and utter delight—came the two Beavers, Tumnus the Faun, and Oreius the Centaur. And there was greeting and warm hugging and kissing and hand-shaking and laughing and the like, and the entire group moved further in until coming to the center of the grove, where a large Phoenix sat in a tree looking down upon them all. At the base of that tree were two thrones, where a King and Queen sat, glittering and beautiful before them all. They were, in fact, King Frank and Queen Helen, _from whom all the most ancient Kings of Narnia and Archenland are descended._

All rejoiced for those they had been reunited with and for the wonderful future that lied before them, especially the four Pevensies (whether by blood or by marriage). But when a stray voice could be heard calling in the distance, there was one of them whose mirth died down enough that she became quiet. When she heard the voice again, something stirred within her, a tingling one could say. She touched Peter's arm gently with her free hand.

"Peter do you—"

"Do you hear that?" he finished. They shared a glance.

"Hey, Pete, do you hear something? I feel like I've heard it before…" said Edmund, who turned to address them, along with Lucy. It was faint at first, but soon the shouting became clear.

"Over here! Can you see me? Over here!" The four of them turned to face the oncoming crowd, and at first they couldn't tell where the voice had come from. But as the shouting repeated, they saw distinctly a hand waving in the crowd, not a long ways from them, and they moved to meet whoever it was, for the voice sounded both familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Soon the crowd parted enough to reveal a handsome young man, clothed in finery. But the most distinguishing features Alexa picked up on right away were his hazel eyes, shoulder-length russet-colored hair, and the same, boyish smile. In that smile she saw the child she had cared for almost nine years. At that moment Lucy was gracious enough to quickly take William in her arms, allowing both Alexa and Peter to nearly smother the boy. Alexa kissed his cheek and clung to her eldest son, who was now much taller than she (actually, almost as tall as Peter). She sobbed tears of joy, though she apologized over and over, while Peter did the same.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry, Garrett, we never wanted to leave you…so very sorry," Alexa cried, but towards the end she sounded quite hysterical, though she was the most happy she had ever been in her life at that precise moment.

"Shh, Mother, you need not cry for me. If I had harbored any resentment toward my family, I forgave you all a long time ago," said Garrett, through the few tears that he himself shed. And after a few moments, he also embraced his teary-eyed aunt and uncle.

"So this is my younger brother?" he asked as he gently grasped the small fingers of the infant, who laughed a babe's sweet, high-pitched laugh and almost seemed to wave at Garrett with his other hand.

"Yes, my son, his name is William," said Alexa. She stood beside Garrett as Lucy still held William, and Peter and Edmund were on either side of Lucy.

"But where is Aunt Su?" asked Garrett. The others became silent at the question. But it was Lucy who took it upon herself to explain to her nephew all that had happened after they left Old Narnia for the first time.

* * *

><p>It was after some time—whether hours or centuries, one couldn't be sure, as time ran differently there—Lucy stood with her dear friend, Mr. Tumnus, overlooking the wall of the Garden and seeing all of Narnia spread out below. The hill there was very high, so high that it sank with the cliffs, and the trees below looked like grains of sand.<p>

"I see now," she said quietly. "This garden is like the stable; it is far bigger inside that outside."

"Yes, Lucy. The further up and further in you go, the larger things will get," said the faun. She continued looking down and further out, and saw that were they were was not really a garden, but a whole world, it was a world within worlds.

"It's like an onion," he said. "Except that you continue to go in and in, and each circle is bigger than the last." Soon Lucy found that if she looked upon something far away, eventually it would clear up and become more visible, like looking through a telescope. From there she could see Cair Paravel, shining and beautiful in the sunlight, and Archenland to the south, and even further south, Tashbaan, and the Lone Islands, and island after island beyond a great mountain, she could see Aslan's country. But by now she could see that it was part of a greater chain of mountains that circled like an onion.

She then looked to the left and saw a band of brightly colored clouds; purple, red, blue, orange, colors of this nature, all circling around each other. She focused hard on it, and when it cleared, she focused on one spot of it. It was then that she found something extraordinary.

"Peter, Edmund, Alexa! Come here at once!" she called out. When they went over to where she was standing, along with Garrett, their eyes became like hers and they saw what she had seen.

"Why, look! It's England! And there's Professor Kirke's house…" Peter trailed in wonder.

"But I thought that house was destroyed," said Edmund, voicing Peter's thoughts.

"Ah, yes, but remember you are looking at the real England, and there nothing good is ever destroyed," said Tumnus.

"How do we get there?" asked Lucy.

"Well, that's easy. All the real countries are connected to the Great Mountains of Aslan, one needs just simply to walk across. And there King Frank's horn just sounded, we are to go further up!" said the faun. And they all walked together—a great procession up toward mountains higher than anything that could be seen in the Old World, or even Old Narnia. But there was no snow; there was forests and groves and waterfalls and trees with delicious fruits, and then there were valleys on each side, growing deeper until the real England came into view across the valley on the left. There was also a light ahead, growing stronger, but then Aslan himself could be seen leaping down from cliff to cliff. It was after but a moment that he landed in front of them, smiling a cat's smile, watching us with knowing eyes.

"_You do not yet look so happy as I mean you to be,_" He said.

"Oh, we're so afraid of being sent away, Aslan. And you have so often to our own world…" Lucy trailed, unable to continue the thought, for the mere conception of leaving this place was horrid and foul.

"There is no fear you should have of that, have you not guessed?" said Aslan. "There was a _real _railway accident. Your father, mother, and all of you are—as you once called it in the Shadowlands—are dead. _The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning._"

And it was only then that the four began to think of all they had left behind; friends, family, work, school, people in their lives who had mattered, but here was not a place to dwell on sadness and melancholy. It was now that before their eyes that Aslan ceased to look quite like a lion, but happenings began so wonderful and marvelous, things that cannot be written or ever described. And it was only then that the real Story could be begun, and all that had been before came to pass in preparation for this, hereafter.


	12. October 20, 1979 — December, 1981

**Here we go everyone, the last chapter of Hereafter. I've enjoyed it immensely, and I hope you have too! Just be prepared, it's not "feel-good chapter of the year," nor is it without hope, though. But I'm just going to stop spoiling it for you and let you read for yourself.**

**WARNING: There's some swearing in this one by one who doesn't usually swear, so just letting you know.**

**Disclaimer: The lyrics below are from the 1940s band, The Chords in "Sh-Boom." The quote used later in bold was the work of Brian Andreas.**

**Now, before you read ahead, I just want to thank all of you who have left reviews, favorited, or followed anything of this series in the past few years. It's been a long time in coming, but I appreciate you all so much! Without you readers, I wouldn't have had the motivation to keep on working on this story, or even the rest of the series. I'll still be working on one-shots, and other short chapter stories like _The Ruined City_, so you can all keep following adventures and funny moments and the like. Thank you, and goodnight. ;)**

* * *

><p><em>~Hereafter~<em>

"_Life could be a dream, sh-boom  
>If I could take you up in paradise up above, sh-boom<br>If you would tell me I'm the only one that you love  
>Life could be a dream, sweetheart."<br>_

_October 20, 1979 _— December, 1981__

The sky was grey and gloomy. The roads were slick with rainwater. The buildings were old and brown, whereas the gates of the cemetery were newly painted black. There were benches, a sight not commonly seen at an English cemetery. But the grass and the hill that led from the parking lot to where she sat was green. The flowers she laid before them were also brightly-colored, each of the bouquets the same for each plot. She came here every year with flowers, hoping it would help in some way. Whether to make the place look brighter or to ease Susan's soul, she had no idea which. At least there were trees here.

_Lucy had always liked trees, for some unfathomable reason_, she thought, and sighed. _It's been thirty years. Thirty visits. Never alone, though._

The first time everyone had been there; Philip, her fiancé, Richard Kingsley, the most distraught she had ever seen the man, along with his half-sister Diane and his wife Linda, who had only been his girlfriend at the time. And Mina Lewis. The poor girl. Besides Susan and Richard, she could have been easily the most inconsolable.

_Susan wandered through the old house. There were so many memories, so many she now wanted to forget…but she wouldn't let them. She owed that much to them not to let anything in this house be altered or demolished. Susan ruminated over these things as she climbed the stairs, Mina close behind her. She hadn't been able to shake the younger woman off at the funeral, and she had volunteered to help Susan with any moving or anything she might need. Phillip waited downstairs, keeping the press at bay. A young woman starting her successful career who had suddenly lost her entire family and friends in one train crash sold papers for a cover story tragedy. _

_She had no need to enter her own room. Next was her brothers' old rooms. She steeled herself and entered, marveling at how they could thoroughly disgust her, even in death, with the messiest room she had seen in her life. Well, she couldn't blame Peter. He hadn't lived here in years. _

It was always Edmund's fault, _she thought, even as the tears began sliding down her cheeks. _

_She viewed the pictures hung on the wall, to the clothes strewn on the bed and floor, to the various papers and books on his desk and bookshelf. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Mina weeping. The girl had found a picture of herself and Edmund, sitting in front of a tree. She turned to Susan with red-rimmed, glassy eyes that were visible even with her glasses on._

"_Susan…may I please keep this? I…I…" As Susan viewed the girl, weeping and exuding a demeanor of utter brokenness of spirit, she felt a well of pity as well as empathy. She stepped forward and put a gentle hand on Mina's shoulder._

"_No need to ask, dear. Whatever pictures or trinkets the two of you shared, you just go ahead and take it then," she said tearfully. Mina nodded and choked on a sob, and only then did Susan embrace the girl, offering comfort, and perhaps asking for some as well. The two stood like this for a few moments, leaning on one another for support, until they could rein themselves in again. _

_Susan wiped her eyes and gave Mina another comforting squeeze on her shoulder before she turned around. Upon viewing Edmund's desk, amidst the scattered papers something black and velvet caught her eye. She picked up a small box that could fit in the center of her palm. Opening it, she nodded in understanding. As tears flowed anew, she slowly turned to where Mina still clutched the picture with a reverence not lost on Susan. She offered it to the younger woman. _

"_It's rightfully yours, he bought it for you two weeks ago. I remember when he brought it home…he was so very excited," Susan recalled with wonder. Philip's proposal had not even been as passionate as the sheer joy on her brother's face as he showed the contents of the box to their parents. Sobbing yet again, Mina slid the ring onto her finger on her left hand. _

"_Did you know…he engraved it?" Mina asked between bouts of tears. _

"…_No, what does it say?" Susan asked, and stepped closer to see for herself._

"'_Love is never fleeting.'"_

_For the next week, Susan was swamped with papers to sign and lawyers to deal with. All the while her fiancé did what he could to smooth things over. But it was Mina Lewis who remained Susan's faithful companion. Whatever she asked, whatever she happened to need, Mina was there to lend aid. Susan couldn't understand it for the life of her, but she still appreciated it._

_When things continued on like this for two more weeks, however, Susan began to feel sorry for the girl. Didn't she have better things to do than follow Susan around? It was on a day when they had just walked into her parents' home that Susan turned around sharply, stopping Mina in her tracks._

"_Is there something wrong?" Mina asked._

"_Don't you have a job? Or school?" Susan questioned._

"_The school board allowed me to take a semester off. I'm staying with my parents in the meantime."_

"_Why did you take a semester off? In fact, why do you even keep coming back here?" she asked. But when the younger girl didn't answer, and simply glanced down at her folded hands, Susan sighed and motioned around her with the sweep of a hand. "Don't you want to get away from all this? Doesn't this just keep reminding you of my brother?" Mina looked up at her, tears unshed in her eyes._

"_I'm not a masochist."_

"_Then why? I'm afraid I just don't understand. You still have family, friends too I'm sure."_

"_I don't have many friends," she confessed quietly._

"_So you're alone. Is that what you're getting at?" When Mina didn't offer a reply, Susan scoffed. "Well that's pathetic. You should be in school, studying or writing your term paper. Not here with me."_

"_I'm pathetic for wanting to help you?" Mina asked bluntly. A tear ran down Susan's cheek, one she hastily wiped away with her sleeve, and kept her posture straight._

"_But…"_

"_Susan…I would like us to be friends," said Mina. She stepped toward Susan and cautiously held out a hand. "Let's start over then."_

_There was a long pause in which neither spoke, and the offer hung in the air until one could hear a pin drop in the house._

_Slowly, but surely, Susan accepted Mina's hand. _

Susan had never been alone since. The only person constant in Susan's life had been that young girl. Though they were no longer young at fifty and fifty-three, respectively, there was not a day that went by that Susan regretted their friendship. She had married Philip on December 5th of 1949, but the marriage was short-lived, and filled with tragedy.

He had supported her career, which quickly became successful. He attended to her every whim, and even now she realized how she had strung him along, pretending to love him even as she drove him like a dog to do her bidding. It was a mere five years after their marriage that he had died by a hit-and-run driver on a Sunday afternoon; she had called him to the office where she was waiting for him to deliver some papers she had left at home. She never did forgive herself for that either.

Mina, however, had never married. She still wore her engagement ring with pride.

"Susan, you forgot your coat in the car," said Mina, who was by now panting.

"For goodness sake, woman, did you run up that hill?" asked Susan, who immediate got up and helped the poor woman onto the bench.

"Of course not, but I hastened."

"You're a crazy old fool, you know that?"

"Not as old as you, Su."

"Touché, but not by much. I already put the flowers."

"Oh, good. Edmund liked purple."

"Mina, we put the same ones every year."

"I know," she replied indignantly, but had to pause to relieve her chest of a wheezing cough that would not settle for many moments. It was deeply concerning for Susan, for the woman had been suffering with it for weeks.

"Here, let me feel your forehead," said Susan. Mina resisted.

"Oh, get away. I don't want your clammy hands all over my face."

"Stay put, I need to check."

"Bother, you're so annoying." Susan ignored her in favor of pressing her hand gently on the woman's forehead.

"My God, you're burning hot!"

"Really? I didn't notice."

"Come on, you idiot, let's get you home."

"But we just got here!"

"Save it. Let's get down the hill." Susan stood and helped Mina to her feet, though she was a bit shaky. They had only taken about four steps when Mina's legs gave out from under her.

"Susan, I can't—"

"Oh, Lord. Mina, here, let me help you…we need to get to a hospital."

"No, no! I don't need to go to a hospital."

"Yes you do, you're trembling and sweating. Now let's go!"

"I can't make it."

"Yes you can, let's go."

* * *

><p>Two days later, after Mina Lewis was hospitalized, she was diagnosed with lymphoma, a type of cancer in the blood. She only suffered for two more years, to the month, to the day of <em>their <em>passing on October 20, 1981. Susan buried another friend, another _sister_. This time she was truly alone.

"_I want to thank you, Mina," said Susan as she sat at the younger woman's bedside. Her hands were clammy, but neither of them minded._

"_For what?" she asked softly._

"_You were always there for me, even when I didn't want you there…even these past two years," said Susan. "I was supposed to have been taking care of you, and you're still taking care of me." Mina's gaze shifted to the far wall._

"_Well, I think we saved each other, Su. Without you, I would have died a long time ago," she said._

"_I know you loved my brother," Susan admitted. Mina sighed._

"_I had dreamed of our wedding day. I was so looking forward to dancing with him; Lucy told me he was such a good dancer…" She trailed, but then slowly smiled. "But after he died I was content that I had told him I loved him, at least once."_

"_That's true," said Susan. But she felt a pang in her heart knowing she couldn't say the same._

"_Mina, if you don't mind me asking…why didn't you ever look for love again? I wouldn't have held it against you." Mina's eyes closed for a moment, but she smiled and opened them again._

"_Remember that old, 1940s song Doris Day sang, 'Again?'" Mina asked. When Susan shook her head negatively, Mina spoke rather than sung. "It started out, 'Again, this couldn't happen again. This is that once in a lifetime, this is the thrill divine.'" Susan looked down with a sigh. Mina smiled once more._

"_I have no regrets…I have a feeling I'll see him soon." It was only then that Susan, while she held her friend's hand, could no longer hold back the full flow of her tears. _

"_Mina, I don't think I can do this without you…I've never felt so alone since they died. I lost my parents, my brothers, my sister, my friend, later my aunt and uncle, then my husband. If you go too, what will I have left?" she sobbed. Mina had requested all her wires and tubes to be taken out only minutes ago, as these were her final moments. She wanted to be remembered with clarity and dignity, not strapped to a machine. But she looked tenderly at Susan, and squeezed her hand softly to get her attention. When Susan looked up at her tearfully, Mina spoke._

"_Su, you've got a lot to live for. If for nothing else, for our memory. When you're lonely, think of them, think of me, and how we used to be. Think of the things that brought you joy…I know you once experienced joy in your life." Susan knew it pained Mina to speak, but she wanted her to keep going. Maybe somehow she would last longer if she kept talking._

"_I have…but it was so long ago. I don't remember how to be happy."_

"_You will, when you realize what's important."_

"_But I do know what's important. I've made a name for myself; I run my own company and a thriving treatment center; I have a PhD in psychology; I've won awards, for heaven's sake. So what do you mean by realizing what's important?" Susan asked, though she hardly realized how loudly her voice had risen. Mina only looked up at her with a kind smile—the last she had to give._

"_Remember our lives and the way we lived, Su," she said, her voice beginning to tremble with the strain of keeping it solid. Soon it lowered to a coarse whisper that Susan leaned in close to hear._

"_All of them loved you. I love you too, sister." _

_It took minutes for the doctor to enter once again. He regarded Susan, who sat holding Mina's hand. She turned to the doctor with tear-streaked eyes._

"_It's all right, Doctor. She's with my brother now."_

* * *

><p><em>December 24, 1981<em>

Susan visited her brother's home, the little brown house. In the line of succession it had been left to her, and she had cared for it for many years. Like her parent's home, nothing had been altered or destroyed. Even the pictures they had used for the funeral had been put back into place.

_Alexa was never meticulous, but at least she was cleaner than Peter_, Susan thought in amusement. She had only visited this house a few times when they were living, but many more times after it had fallen into her possession. It held a hominess that she felt quite warming.

_Alexa was right. Life on the quiet side wouldn't be so bad._

Never had she wanted to go into Peter's study, however. It felt like crossing a line of decency. He had never allowed her in there, but she was curious. What books had he stored in there, where did he leave his small stash of tobacco (as she knew he did)? Trivial things, but she had nowhere to be. It was a Sunday, and she never worked on Sunday.

So, she walked around the couch and into the backroom, Peter's study. As she imagined, it was filled with bookshelves to the brim with novels: classics, fantasy, adventure, romance, politics, world history, geography (the latter two of these genres, she was sure was part of Alexa's collection), and the like. His desk was neat, not many envelopes or stray papers. But there was a small stack put in a corner on the left side of the mahogany desk. Susan read the front page and nearly gasped.

"_A Proposal Gone Awry: a young queen and her insidious fiancé-to-be_, by Peter Pevensie."

Somehow, as she thumbed through the first couple pages, she thought she knew this story. By the fourth page, she knew, it was one of the childhood games they had made up when they were children. Susan had been the star of this one. She huffed and returned the pages to how they were.

"The nerve, him writing something like that about me." It was an irrational thought, but it made her feel a little better to say such a thing. With this in mind, she walked out of the study and closed the door behind her.

* * *

><p>The following day, on Christmas morning, she visited her parent's house. She now could afford to live in a stately manor, but she was feeling the effects of loneliness, now that she had no one to celebrate even <em>Christmas<em> with. The house offered a sense of peace and grief at the same time, eliciting, within Susan, a melancholy disposition.

"Oh, how I tire of this," Susan spat sardonically as she opened up a bottle of her father's old scotch. She began to drink. Heavily. It scorched her throat and brought involuntary tears to her eyes, and she knew why she had never had a real love for hard liquor in the first place.

"Mina, you told me to think about everyone who ever died and left me, well what good has it done me?" she asked the open air and the walls and the pictures and the furniture that had been untouched for over thirty years. Susan scoffed and sat heavily on the couch, but was mindful not to let the bottle spill on her mother's couch.

"You know, I know it's ten in the morning, but you know what? I don't give a damn_._" She took another swig and began to laugh humorlessly to herself.

"What has remembering ever done me in my _goddamned_ life?" Susan shouted. "You said they all loved me, well you're _wrong!_ They all _hated _me, until the day they died. Even my own parents couldn't look at me the same, just because I appreciated nice clothes and interesting people."

Even as she spoke she knew it was very, very wrong. She let the tears stream down her face, and she set the bottle on the coffee table. She put her head in her hands and let out sobs that she had never made in her life.

After an hour, she stood and shakily made her way up the stairs to her room. She wanted so desperately to sleep and never wake up. She practically slumped into the chair in front of her vanity. Her long, chestnut-colored hair, wearing grayed tendrils in age, was a mess. It wasn't too far off from the rest of her.

Susan sighed. She began opening drawers in search of a tie. One by one, all empty, until she opened the bottom drawer. There was an envelope, cream-colored and frayed with age. Perhaps a bit dusty. She hesitated before opening it, but when she looked on the back and saw the writing she remembered, _"Not to be opened until the time before dawn_," she knew she would have to, no matter what time it was or not.

_It's Pete's handwriting._

And so was the letter inside.

_Oh, Susan. Where do I begin? I could say that I'm sorry, but for what exactly? So many things. And there are so many things I want to tell you, but I won't allow myself. That sounds selfish, perhaps self-righteous, but there is one thing I can say: I could have been a better brother to you. You deserved better than me, and you probably already know this, just not for the reasons I think so. _

_What kind of man allows his sister to marry a man he knows she doesn't love? I had been better to you the first time._

_What kind of man refuses to speak to her, simply because he doesn't know how?_

_What kind of man allows his sister to turn her back on her entire life without so much as a warning, or an attempt to help her through her obstacles? _

_I have many regrets in my life, Su, as much as I'm loath to admit; one of the biggest and most detrimental was letting you walk away from it all. I know this is the last thing you will ever want to hear, but before it's too late, I want you to remember that you were once a kind, gentle, reasonable and well-rounded young woman. I believe she's still there._

_You've spent most of your life depending on the material, and you've lost your way—you've lost the essence of what you used to be, what you truly are. You've let the world shape you, and it could eventually cost you everything. _

_Sometimes, I'll simply get up early in the morning when it's not yet light, and sit in front of my house until the sun rises. __**I've always liked the time before dawn because there's no one around to remind me who I'm supposed to be, so it's easier to remember who I am.**_

_I pray every day that Aslan helps you realize who you are. Only then will you truly find happiness._

_I love you, Su._

_Peter_

The cream-colored paper fell from between her fingers and fluttered to the floor. Hands shaking, she reached down towards it and stumbled out of her chair.

"_Su, you've got a lot to live for."_

She fell on all fours on the hard, wooden floor. Brunette curls tumbled down, obscuring her vision enough that her brother's handwriting was all she could see as she looked below her. Sobs of anguish tore through her throat, even as she plopped down into a sitting position, and leaned against the vanity.

"Who the hell am I kidding? I don't have anything. My job, my achievements, my dreams, and everything in between—none of it ever mattered." Here, she began to chuckle humorlessly through her tears. "I own three houses, all are empty." She didn't have to see herself in a mirror to know how severely pathetic she looked: sniveling and disheveled.

"_When you're lonely, think of them, think of me, and how we used to be. Think of the things that brought you joy…I know you once experienced joy in your life."_

"I was happy once. When I was a child…a dream I had long forgotten…or chose to forget…I don't remember what it felt like…" She looked ahead to the far wall, and through the window she could see the clear-blue sky, which poured in some light into the dim room.

"_You will, when you realize what's important."_

_Well, I certainly understand what is not_, Susan thought in melancholy.

"_You were once a kind, gentle, reasonable and well-rounded young woman. I believe she's still there."_

Susan scoffed and wiped under her eyes.

"That little girl has been dead for a long time."

_There are many things that have been known to me in these past miserable years, _she thought._ Only since this past two months have I felt their full force, and neither kindness nor gentleness was of them._

"_Remember our lives and the way we lived, Su."_

_I don't want to. _

"_All of them loved you. I love you too, sister."_

"Enough…please…" Susan pleaded, bringing her hands to her ears. "I don't want to hear anymore! I don't want to remember…"

"_And I pray every day that Aslan helps you realize who you are."_

"_Stop it!_ I don't know who I am, just _leave me alone!_" Susan stood and screamed, and she began pacing the room in earnest.

"_Only then will you truly find happiness."_

"Stop…"

"_I love you, Su."_

She stopped abruptly in the center of the room and regarded herself in the mirror of her vanity. What she saw there was a tear-streaked old woman, who was acting like a child with her hands over her ears. She had been doing exactly this for most of her years—holding her hands over her ears.

"I know…I know…I'm sorry…I understand now, Peter."

_I always knew and refused to listen…Lucy, Edmund, Alexa…Mina, they all had it right_.

Slowly, she let her arms fall to her sides. Picking up her brother's letter on the way out, she went downstairs, put on her shoes, grabbed her purse and coat, and walked out the door. Into her car she drove—for some few miles until reaching what had been her brother's house. She didn't bother making herself comfortable; she entered his study instead.

Basically, Susan ransacked the room.

She looked for any written work of Peter's she could find: poems, short stories, unfinished manuscripts he had been working on for clients, and finally, two novels, one of which he had finished, and the other remained nearly half of the book's potential. They were a collection of stories—the very same he used to tell when they would gather around in the living room of their parents' home. It only took the first page for her to realize that, like the short story that was on his desk, all were ones she recognized. All were of Narnia.

She read every single one.

One, however, was separate from the rest. This was a memoir, a memoir of Peter's, which included their first journey of entering a magical land. And just when she thought she had run out of tears.

She relived it all with such clarity—it almost felt as if she was in a dream watching the various scenes pass by. But the emotions evoked, those were most surely real.

"Oh, Aslan, what have I done?" she asked brokenly. "…How could I have forgotten you?"

_Never again…never again._

The two novels Peter had written were different; the first was a collection of children's stories that he seemed to have based on their own adventures, staring with Professor Kirke and Polly Plummer's. He had ended only a few years after the beginning of their reign. The second, however, was a short collection of poetry, varying in genre and emotional effect.

Susan vowed she would publish the first for Peter posthumously, then she would finish the second for him before publishing this under his name as well. All would be done with Richard Kingsley's help, of course. He may have been in his early sixties, but he still had connections, Susan was sure.

For the first time in many, many years, Susan smiled—genuinely smiled. She had found new purpose, and for this, she knew she would be eternally grateful.

Breathing a sigh, she turned her head to look out the window, and by now, outside was dark. She had worked through the night, reading. But the more she watched, she noticed the sky lightening.

The time before the dawn.

And the day had never looked brighter.


End file.
